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THREE YEARS 
WITH THE POETS 

^ €ert:^25ooft of ^oetrp 

TO BE MEMORIZED BY CHILDREN 

DURING THE FIRST YEARS 

IN SCHOOL 

COMPILED BY 

BERTHA HAZARD 




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HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

Boston : 4 Park Street ; New York : 85 Fifth Avenue 

Chicago : 378-388 Wabash Avenue 

(Cl)e iliiViersibe pre^i^, Cambribse 



1.ISRAHY of GONGHtSS 
Two Copi03 Received 

NOV 9 J9U4 

Copyrieni tniry 

CLASS ti^XXc. No; 

COPY B. 






COPYRIGHT 1904 
BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 



ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



TO 

E. J. W. 

WITH GRATEFUL RECOGNITION 

OF HER UNFAILING SYMPATHY AND HELP 

DURING THESE TEN YEARS 

OF PLEASANT WORK 

TOGETHER. 



FOREWORD TO THE TEACHER 

In recognition of the fact that there are already in 
existence various excellent collections of poetry for 
children, and that still another would therefore seem 
to be quite unnecessary, it is perhaps fitting that 
this little book should present itself with due apo- 
logy for its existence. It might be better, however, 
to acknowledge frankly that this present volume 
does not claim to be a " collection " at all, in the 
ordinary sense of the word. Eather is it a text-book 
of poetry, limited in its scope by the needs and 
interests of the first school years, and aiming only 
to be an introduction to the real anthologies for 
children, the larger and more complete collections. 
It is hoped that it may serve as the first '' study- 
book " which a little child should be asked to use, 
and that as such it may correlate to advantage with 
the reading-books, and with the oral lessons in 
botany or history or geography of the lower primary 
grades. 

There is perhaps a grain of truth in the assertion 
that the so-called modern methods of education for- 
get to train the memory. Certainly every teacher, 
conservative or progressive, would agree that facility 
in memorizing is most valuable, and that as one step 



vi FOREWORD TO THE TEACHER 

towards acquiring this facility, the youngest children 
should be accustomed to learn each week at least a 
few lines of poetry. But for most teachers, "memory 
gems," good perhaps in themselves, but chosen at 
random, without special reference to the child's 
school life, are no longer satisfactory. The poetry 
to be learned in school should follow the children's 
other interests in work and play, thus helping to 
make vivid every other subject, and becoming itself 
a vital part of the day's pleasure. Moreover, the 
poems should be sufficiently numerous to allow free- 
dom of choice, and they should usually be short 
enough to be learned by the greater part of the 
class in a single week. 

One word more as to the working plan of the 
book. Children dearly love a task, provided only 
that it is definite, and interesting, and not beyond 
their powers. They like to know where they are jour- 
neying in the land of books, and a simple show of 
purpose and system will usually appeal to them. The 
Calendar of the year's work, which serves instead of 
index, gives a list of ten Required Poems which the 
slowest and most undeveloped little persons can prob- 
ably be induced to learn, month by month. In every 
class, there will be an appreciable number of chil- 
dren, however, who cannot do more than this, who 
could not usually learn the required poem well in less 
time than the whole of the month to which it be- 
longs, but to whom the proud consciousness of duty 
performed should not be denied. On the other hand. 



FOREWORD TO THE TEACHER vii 

many children could do more than this, and some few 
could even learn a new poem each week, thus acquir- 
ing some forty poems during the school year. The 
Elective series of thirty poems offers full scope for 
the zealous activities of these quicker minds, while 
the Supplementary Khymes and Poems which follow 
may be useful as substitutes where shorter tasks are 
needed, or where additional freedom of choice is 
desired. Many children are interested in a visible 
record of work done, and for these it may be of value 
to allow them to write in the Calendar the dates of 
the days when the different poems have been suc- 
cessfully recited. 

It should be added that no poem has been allowed 
its place in the series without having been first " tried 
on," and found pleasant and profitable for the year 
for which it has been chosen. With sympathetic and 
persistent encouragement, the love of poetry devel- 
ops rapidly in children, and their ability to commit 
to memory grows astonishingly. Although at first 
glance it might seem that forty poems such as those 
which have been chosen represent too great a task 
for a single year, yet, as a matter of fact and expe- 
rience, they have been found wholly possible, except 
of course for the natural omissions which must be- 
fall through absence. The course as given for each 
year includes nothing which children have not done 
gladly and with steadily increasing appreciation of 
the pleasure to be found in books. 

My thanks are due to the following authors for 



viii FOREWORD TO THE TEACHER 

cordial permission to use the poems mentioned : to 
Mrs. M. A. L. Lane, for " Hilda's Christmas ; " to 
Mrs. Emily Huntington Miller for " The Bluebird " 
and " Little May ; " to Miss Emilie Poulsson for 
" The First Christmas " and " While Stars of Christ- 
mas shine ; " to Miss Mary McDowell for her " Civic 
Creed ; " and to Mrs. Blanche Wilder Bellamy for 
her translation of a poem by Victor Hugo. 

I am also indebted to D. Appleton and Company 
for permission to use two poems of William CuUen 
Bryant; to Charles Scribner's Sons for "The Wind/' 
" Autumn Fires/' " Bed in Summer/' " In Winter- 
Time/' and " The Sun's Travels/' all taken from 
"A Child's Garden of Verses/' by Eobert Louis 
Stevenson ; to the same firm for " A Norse Lul- 
laby " and " Wynken, Blynken, and Nod/' from 
" Lullaby Land/' by Eugene Field (copyright, 
1892) ; to The Century Company for the use of " A 
Cradle Song/' by Richard Watson Gilder, and 
" The Sea-Princess," by Katherine Pyle ; to Little, 
Brown, and Company for two poems by Helen Hunt 
Jackson ; also to the editor of " The Journal of 
Education " for "A Hint," by Anna M. Pratt. 

Bertha Hazard. 

August, 1904. 



CALENDAR 

FIRST YEAR 
REQUIRED POEMS 



September 

Autumn Fires 


PAGE 

Robert Louis Stevenson 1 


October 






The Wind 


Christina G. Rossetti 


2 


November 






Praying and Loving 


Samuel Taylor Coleridge 


3 


December 






The First Christmas 


Emilie Poulsson 


4 


January 

Winter-Time 


Robert Louis Stevenson 


5 


February 

The Snow-Bird 


Frank Dempster Sherman 


6 


March 






The Wind 


Robert Louis Stevenson 


7 



April 



Verses from The Song of Solomon The Bible 8 



May 



Pippa's Song 



June 



Ariel's Song 



Robert Browning 9 
William Shakespeare 10 



X CALENDAR 




ELECTIVE 


POEMS 




Septemher 






Thank You, Pretty Cow 


Jane Taylor 


11 


An Autumn Riddle 


Unknown 


12 


Lullaby 


Christina G. Rossetti 


12 


Octoher 






TiADY Moon 


Lord Houghton 


13 


MiLKtNG Time 


Christina G. Rossetti 


14 


To Mother Fairie 


Alice Cary 


14 


Novemher 






Good-Night 


Victor Hugo 


15 


An Old Gaelic Cradle-Song Unknown 


15 


Little Things 


Unknown 


16 


December 






An Old Christmas Carol 


Unknown 


17 


An Old English Carol 


Unknown 


17 


" While Stars of Christmas Shine " 






Emilie Poulsson 


18 


January 






The Months 


Richard B. Sheridan 


19 


A Hint 


Anna M. Pratt 


19 


A Chill 


Christina G. Rossetti 


20 


I^ehruary 






America 


Samuel F. Smith 


21 


Winter 


Phihp H. Savage 


22 


King and Queen 


Unknown 


22 



March 

Cradle Song 
The Caterpillar 
Sweet and Low 

April 

April 

The Runaway Brook 

Little May 



Unknown 23 

Unknown 23 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson 24 

Mrs. J. B. Gustafson 25 

Eliza Lee FoUen 25 

Emily Huntington Miller 26 



CALENDAR xi 

May 

The City Child Alfred, Lord Tennyson 27 

Bed in Summer Robert Louis Stevenson 28 

Up in the Morning Early Unknown 28 

June 

Summer Christina G. Rossetti 30 

The Sun's Travels Robert Louis Stevenson 30 

The Shepherd William Blake 31 

SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS AND RHYMES 



The Weather 


Unknown 


32 


What Every One Knows 


Unknown 


32 


Things to Remember 


Unknown 


33 


Sing-Song 


Christina G. Rossetti 


33 


I Love Little Pussy 


Jane Taylor 


33 


Cradle Song 


Thomas Bailey Aldrich 


34 


Sewing 


Unknown 


35 


The Dandelion 


Unknown 


35 


The Sea Princess 


Katherine Pyle 


36 


Cunning Bee 


Unknown 


36 


Hiawatha's Childhood 






Henry 


Wadsworth Longfellow 


37 



SECOND YEAR 

REQUIRED POEMS 
Sejitemher 

September Helen Hunt Jackson 41 

October 

Jack Frost Celia Thaxter 42 

November 

Snowflakes Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 43 

December 

As Joseph was a-walking Unknown 44 



xii CALENDAR 

January 

Winter Alfred, Lord Tennyson 45 

Fehruary 

A Fable Ralph Waldo Emerson 46 

March 

March Celia Thaxter 47 

Ajpril 

Spring Celia Thaxter 48 

May 

Song of the Fairy William Shakespeare 49 

June 

A Morning Song William Shakespeare 50 

ELECTIVE POEMS 
Sejptemher 

Lady-Bird Caroline B. Southey 51 

The Babie Hugh Miller 52 

The Tree Bjornstjerne Bjornson 52 

October 

The City Mouse and the Country Mouse 

Christina G. Rossetti 54 
Cradle Song Richard Watson Gilder 54 

The Challenge of Thor 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 55 

Novemher 

The Fir-Tree Edith M. Thomas 57 

The Winter Robin Thomas Bailey Aldrich 58 

Thanksgiving-Day Lydia Maria Child 58 

Decemher 

Verses from Saint Luke The Bible 60 

A Christmas Carol Dinah Maria Mulock 61 

Christmas-Time Charles Dickens 62 



CALENDAR 


xiii 


January 




A Norse Lullaby Eugene Field 


63 


A Farewell Charles Kingsley 


64 


The Lighthouse Sir Walter Scott 


64 


February 




The Snowdrop Alfred, Lord Tennyson 


65 


To A Child William Wordsworth 


65 


God Bless our Native Land 




C. T. Brooks and J. S. Dwight 


66 


March 




Lines Written in JVL^rch William Wordsworth 


67 


March Lucy Larcom 


68 


The Four Winds Frank Dempster Sherman 


68 


A'pril 




Answer to a Child's Question 




Samuel Taylor Coleridge 


70 


The Bluebird Emily Huntington Miller 


71 


Hie away, hie away Sir Walter Scott 


72 


May 




Lullaby for Tetania William Shakespeare 


73 


The Fairies William Allingham 


74 


Song of the Fairies Unknown 


76 


June 




A Boy's Song James Hogg 


77 


Seven times One Jean Ingelow 


78 


Wishing William Allingham 


79 


SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS AND RHYMES 




To-day Thomas Carlyle 


81 


Humility Robert Herrick 


82 


An Emerald is as Green as Grass 




Christina G. Rossetti 


82 


The Eagle Alfred, Lord Tennyson 


82 


Violets John Moultrie 


83 


To Violets Robert Herrick 


83 



xiv CALENDAR 

The Succession of the Four Sweet Months 

Robert Herrick 84 

The Brown Thrush Lucy Larcom 85 

The Dandelions Helen Gray Cone 86 

The Lost Doll Charles Kingsley 87 

Hiawatha's Sailing 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 88 

THIRD YEAR 

REQUIRED POEMS 
Septemher 

The Arrow and the Song 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 92 
October 

October's Bright Blue Weather 

Helen Hunt Jackson 93 
November 

The Sandpiper Celia Thaxter 94 

December 

While Shepherds watched their Flocks by 



Night 


Nahum Tate 


96 


January 

Abou Ben Adhem 


Leigh Hunt 


98 


February 

Winter Rain 


Christina G. Rossetti 


100 


March 






March 


William Cullen Bryant 


102 


April 

Wild Geese 


Celia Thaxter 


103 


May 

The Cloud 


Percy Bysshe Shelley 


105 



June 

Rain in Summer Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 106 



CALENDAR 



XV 



Phoebe Gary 107 



ELECTIVE POEMS 

Septemher 

Don't Give Up 

Flower in the Crannied Wall 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson 108 
Friends L.G.Warner 108 

October . 

Indian Summer John Greenleaf Whittier 110 

Robin Redbreast WiUiam Allingham 110 

The Village Blacksmith 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 112 

November 

-^Q \ Thomas Hood 115 

November Alice Cary 115 

The Twenty-third Psalm The Bible 116 



December 

Christmas Carol 
Hilda's Christmas 
New Year's Eve 



Robert Herrick 118 

M. A. L. Lane 119 

Alfred, Lord Tennyson 121 



January 

The Four Winds 
Wabun, the East-Wind 
Kabibonokka, the North- Wind 
Shawondasee, the South-Wind 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

February 

Stanzas on Freedom James Russell Lowell 

Civic Creed Mary McDowell 

My Native Land Sir Walter Scott 



122 

125 

126 
127 



March 

Greek Children's Song Unknown 128 

Spring has come Oliver Wendell Holmes 128 

Daybreak Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 129 



XVI 



CALENDAR 



April 

April and Mat Ralph Waldo Emerson 131 

Concord Hymn Ralph Waldo Emerson 131 
The Children's Hour 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 132 

May 

The Greenwood Tree William Shakespeare 135 

The Brook Alfred, Lord Tennyson 136 

Pebbles Frank Dempster Sherman 138 

June 

Before the Rain Thomas Bailey Aldrich 140 

The Rainbow — A Riddle Friedrich Schiller 141 

Bugle Song Alfred, Lord Tennyson 141 

SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS AND RHYMES 

The Star-Spangled Banner Francis Scott Key 143 
Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers 

Felicia D. Hemans 145 

The American Flag Joseph Rodman Drake 147 
Battle-Hymn of the Republic 

Julia Ward Howe 148 

Old Ironsides Oliver Wendell Holmes 149 

Passage of the Apennines Percy Bysshe Shelley 150 

Daybreak Percy Bysshe Shelley 151 

A Sea-Song Allan Cunningham 151 

The Fountain James Russell Lowell 152 

In School-Days John Greenleaf Whittier 154 

Ballad of the Tempest James T. Fields 156 

My Jean Robert Burns 157 
The Reverie of Poor Susan 

William Wordsworth 158 
Winter AND Spring 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 159 



CALENDAR xvii 

LONGER POEMS FOR SUPPLEMENTARY 
READING 

FIRST YEAR 

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod Eugene Field 164 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat Edward Lear 166 

A Visit from St. Nicholas Clement C Moore 167 



SECOND 


YEAR 






PiCCOLA 






Celia Thaxter 


170 


NiKOLINA 






Celia Thaxter 


172 


Little Gustava 






Celia Thaxter 


173 


Summer Woods 






Mary Howitt 


175 


The Fairies of the 


Caldon-Low 


Mary Howitt 


178 



THIRD YEAR 
Paul Revere's Ride 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 182 
The Bell of Atri 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 187 
A Christmas Carol James Russell Lowell 191 

O Little Town of Bethlehem Phillips Brooks 192 
Robert of Lincoln William CuUen Bryant 193 

The Planting of the Apple-Tree 

William CuUen Bryant 196 
In the Haunts of Bass and Bream 

Maurice Thompson 199 
True Loye Requited ; or, the Bailiff's Daugh- 
ter OF Islington Unknown 203 
Young Lochinvar Sir Walter Scott 205 
Casabianca Felicia D. Hemans 207 
The Diverting History of John Gilpin 

William Cowper 209 
The Pied Piper of Hamelin 

Robert Browning 220 

HELPS FOR THE DAY'S WORK 232 



THREE TEARS WITH THE POETS 



FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 

SEPTEMBER 

AUTUMN FIRES 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 

In the other gardens 

And all up the vale, 
From the autumn bonfires 

See the smoke trail ! 

Pleasant summer over 

And all the summer flowers, 

The red fire blazes. 

The grey smoke towers* 

Sing a song of seasons ! 

Something bright in all ! 
Flowers in the summer, 

Fires in the fall ! 



FIRST YEAi^ — REQUIRED POEMS 



OCTOBER 

THE WIND 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

Who has seen the wind ? 

Neither I nor you : 
But when the leaves hang trembling 

The wind is passing through. 

Who has seen the wind ? 

Neither you nor I : 
But when the trees bow down their 
heads 

The wind is passing by. 



FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 
NOVEMBER 

PRAYING AND LOVING 

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner 

He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things both great and small ; 

For the dear God who loveth us, 
He made and loveth all. 



FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



DECEMBER 



THE FIRST CHRISTMAS 

EMILIE POULSSON 

Once a little baby lay 
Cradled on the fragrant hay, 

Long ago on Christmas ; 
Stranger bed a babe ne'er found, 
Wond'ring cattle stood around, 

Long ago on Christmas. 

By the shining vision taught, 
Shepherds for the Christ-child sought, 

Long ago on Christmas. 
Guided in a starlit way. 
Wise men came their gifts to pay, 

Long ago on Christmas. 

And to-day the whole glad earth 
Praises God for that Child's birth. 

Long ago on Christmas ; 
For the Life, the Truth, the Way 
Came to bless the earth that day. 

Long ago on Christmas. 



FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS t 

JANUARY 

WINTER-TIME 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 

Late lies the wintry sun abed 

A frosty, fiery sleepy-head ; 

Blinks but an hour or two ; and then, 

A blood-red orange, sets again. 

Before the stars have left the skies, 
At morning in the dark I rise ; 
And shivering in my nakedness. 
By the cold candle, bathe and dress. 

Close by the jolly fire I sit 
To warm my frozen bones a bit ; 
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore 
The colder countries round the door. 

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap 
Me in my comforter and cap ; 
The cold wind burns my face, and blows 
Its frosty pepper up my nose. 

Black are my steps on silver sod ; 
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad ; 
And tree and house, and hill and lake. 
Are frosted like a wedding-cake. 



FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



FEBRUARY 



THE SNOW-BIRD 

FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 

When all the ground with snow is white, 

The merry snow-bird comes, 
And hops about with great delight 
To find the scattered crumbs. 

How glad he seems to get to eat 

A piece of cake or bread ! 
He wears no shoes upon his feet. 

No hat upon his head ! 

But happiest is he, I know, 

Because no cage with bars 
Keeps him from walking in the snow 

And printing it with stars. 



FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



MARCH 

THE WIND 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 

I saw you toss the kites on high 
And blow the birds about the sky ; 
And all around I heard you pass, 
Like ladies' skirts across the grass — 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song ! 

I saw the different things you did. 
But always you yourself you hid. 
I felt you push, I heard you call, 
I could not see yourself at all — 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song ! 

O you that are so strong and cold, 
O blower, are you young or old ? 
Are you a beast of field and tree. 
Or just a stronger child than me ? 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song ! 



8 FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



APRIL 



VERSES/rom THE SONG OF SOLOMON 

For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over 

and gone ; 
The flowers appear on the earth ; the time 

of the singing of birds is come, and 

the Yoice of the turtle is heard in 

our land. 



FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



MAY 



PIPPA'S SONG 

From Pippa Passes 
ROBERT BROWNING • 

The year 's at the spring 
And day 's at the morn ; 
Morning 's at seven ; 
The hillside 's dew-pearled ; 
The lark 's on the wing ; 
The snail 's on the thorn ; 
God 's in his heaven — 
All 's right with the world ! 



10 FIRST YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



JUNE 



ARIEL'S SONG 

From The Tempest 
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Where the hee sucks, there suck I : 

In a cowslip's bell I lie ; 

There I couch when owls do cry : 

On the bat's back I do fly, 

After summer merrily. 

Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, 
Under the blossom that hangs on the 
bough ! 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



SEPTEMBER 



THANK YOU, PRETTY COW 

JANE TAYLOR 

Thank you, pretty cow, that made 
Pleasant milk to soak my bread. 
Every day and every night. 
Warm, and fresh, and sweet, and white, 

Do not chew the hemlock rank, 
Growing on the weedy bank ; 
But the yellow cowslip eat. 
That will make it very sweet. 

Where the purple violet grows. 
Where the bubbling water flows. 
Where the grass is fresh and fine. 
Pretty cow, go there and dine. 



12 FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



AN AUTUMN RIDDLE 

I know a little creature 

In a green bed, 
With the softest wrappings 

All around her head. 
When she grows old 

She is hard and cannot feel. 
So they take her to the mill, 

And grind her into meal. 



LULLABY 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

Lullaby, oh, lullaby ! 
Flowers are closed and lambs are sleeping ; 

Lullaby, oh, lullaby ! 
Stars are up, the moon is peeping ; 

Lullaby, oh, lullaby ! 
While the birds are silence keeping, 

Lullaby, oh, lullaby ! 
Sleep, my baby, fall a-sleeping. 

Lullaby, oh, lullaby ! 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 13 



OCTOBER 

LADY MOON 

LORD HOUGHTON 

Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you 
roving ? 

Over the sea. 
Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you 
loving ? 

All that love me. 

Are you not tired with rolling, and never 

Resting to sleep ? 
Why look so pale and so sad, as forever 

Wishing to weep ? 

Ask me not this, little child, if you love me ; 

You are too bold ; 
I must obey my dear Father above me, 

And do as I 'm told. 

Lady Moon, Lady Moon, where are you 
roving ? 

Over the sea. 
Lady Moon, Lady Moon, whom are you 
loving ? 

All that love me. 



14 FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

MILKING TIME 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

When the cows come home the milk is 

coming ; 
Honey 's made while the bees are humming ; 
Duck and drake on the rushy lake, 
And the deer live safe in the breezy brake ; 
And timid, funny, pert little bunny, 
Winks his nose, and sits all sunny. 

TO MOTHER FAIRIE 

ALICE CARY 

Good old Mother Fairie, 

Sitting by your fire. 
Have you any little folk 

You would like to hire ? 

I want no chubby drudges 
To milk, and churn, and spin, 

Nor old and wrinkled Brownies, 
With grisly beards, and thin ; 

But patient little people, 

With hands of busy care. 
And gentle speech, and loving hearts. 

Now, have you such to spare ? 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 15 



NOVEMBER 

GOOD-NIGHT 

VICTOR HUGO 

Good-night ! Good-night ! 
Far flies the light ; 
But still God's love 
Shall flame above, 
Making all bright. 
Good-night ! Good-night ! 

AN OLD GAELIC CRADLE-SONG 

Hush ! the waves are rolling in, 

White with foam, white with foam ; 

Father toils among the din, 
But baby sleeps at home. 

Hush ! the waves roar hoarse and deep ! 

On they come, on they come ! 
Brother seeks the wandering sheep. 

But baby sleeps at home. 

Hush ! the rain sweeps o'er the knowes, 
Where they roam, where they roam ; 

Sister goes to seek the cows. 
But baby sleeps at home. 



16 FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



LITTLE THINGS 

Little drops of water, 
Little grains of sand, 

Make the mighty ocean 
And the pleasant land. 

Little deeds of kindness, 
Little words of love. 

Make this earth an Eden, 
Like the Heaven above, 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 17 



DECEMBER 

AN OLD CHRISTMAS CAROL 

God bless the master of this house, 

The mistress also, 
And all the little children, 

That round the table go, 
And all your kin and kinsmen 

That dwell both far and near ; 
I wish you a Merry Christmas, 

And a Happy New Year. 



AN OLD ENGLISH CAROL 

Sing high, sing low, 

Sing to and fro, 
Go tell it out with speed. 

Cry out and shout, 

All round about, 
That Christ is born indeed ! 



18 FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



-WHILE STARS OF CHRISTMAS 
SHINE " 

EMILIE POULSSON 

While stars of Christmas shine, 

Lighting the skies, 
Let only loving looks 

Beam from our eyes. 

While bells of Christmas ring, 

Joyous and clear, 
Speak only happy words. 

All love and cheer. 

Give only loving gifts, 

And in love take ; 
Gladden the poor and sad 

For love's dear sake. 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 19 



JANUARY 

THE MONTHS 

RICHARD B. SHERIDAN 

January snowy, February flowy, March 
blowy ; 

April showery, May flowery, June bowery ; 

July moppy, August croppy, September 
poppy ; 

October breezy, November wheezy, Decem- 
ber freezy. 

A HINT 

ANNA M. PRATT 

If you should frown, and I should frown. 

While walking out together. 
The happy folk about the town 
Would say, " The clouds are settling down, 
In spite of pleasant weather/' 

If you should smile, and I should smile. 

While walking out together, 
Sad folk would say, *' Such looks beguile 
The weariness of many a mile, 
In dark and dreary weather/' 



20 FIRST YEAR— -ELECTIVE POEMS 

A CHILL 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

What can lambkins do 

All the keen night through ? 

Nestle by their woolly mother, 
The careful ewe. 

What can nestlings do 

In the nightly dew ? 
Sleep beneath their mother's wing 

Till day breaks anew. 

If in field or tree 

There might only be 
Such a warm, soft sleeping-place 

Found for me ! 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 21 



FEBRUARY 



AMERICA 

SAMUEL F. SMITH 

My country, 't is of thee, 
Sweet land of Liberty, 

Of thee I sing ; 
Land where my fathers died. 
Land of the pilgrims' pride. 
From every mountain-side 

Let Freedom ring. 

My native country, thee. 
Land of the noble free, — 

Thy name I love ; 
I love thy rocks and rills. 
Thy woods and templed hills ; 
My heart with rapture thrills 

Like that above. 

Let music swell the breeze, 
And ring from all the trees 

Sweet Freedom's song ; 
Let mortal tongues awake ; 
Let all that breathe partake ; 
Let rocks their silence break, - 

The sound prolong. 



22 FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

Our fathers' God, to Thee, 
Author of Liberty, 

To Thee we sing : 
Long may our land be bright 
With Freedom's holy light ; 
Protect us by Thy might. 

Great God, our King. 



WINTER 

PHILIP H. SAVAGE 

When February sun shines cold. 
There comes a day when in the air 

The wings of winter slow unfold 

And show the golden summer there. 

KING AND QUEEN 

(A VALENTINE) 

Lilies are white, 
Rosemary's green ; 

When you are king, 
I will be queen. 

Roses are red, 

Lavender's blue ; 
If you will have me, 

I will have you. 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 23 



MARCH 

CRADLE SONG 

Sleep, baby, sleep, 
Our cottage vale is deep ; 
The little lamb is on the green. 
With woolly fleece so soft and clean 

Sleep, baby, sleep ! 

Sleep, baby, sleep, 
Down where the woodbines creep ; 
Be always like the lamb so mild, 
A kind, and sweet, and gentle child - 

Sleep, baby, sleep ! 



THE CATERPILLAR 

I creep upon the ground, and the children 

say, 
"You ugly old thing ! '' and push me away. 

I lie in my bed, and the children say, 

** The fellow is dead ; we'll throw him away." 

At last I awake, and the children try 
To make me stay, as I rise and fly. 



24 FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

SWEET AND LOW 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

Sweet and low, sweet and low, 

Wind of the western sea, 
Low, low, breathe and blow, 
Wind of the western sea ! 
Over the rolling waters go. 
Come from the dying moon, and blow, 
Blow him again to me ; 
While my little one, while my pretty one, 
sleeps. 

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest. 

Father will come to thee soon ; 
Rest, rest, on mother's breast. 

Father will come to thee soon ; 
Father will come to his babe in the nest. 
Silver sails all out of the west 
Under the silver moon ; 
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, 
sleep. 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 25 

APRIL 

My name is April, sir, and I 

Often laugh, as often cry ; 

And I cannot tell what makes me, 

Only, as the fit overtakes me, 

I must dimple, smile, and frown. 

Laughing, though the tears roll down. 

But 't is nature, sir, not art. 

And I 'm happy at my heart. 

THE RUNAWAY BROOK 

ELIZA LEE FOLLEN 

'* Stop, stop, pretty water ! " 

Said Mary one day. 
To a frolicsome brook, 

That was running away. 
'* You run on so fast ! 

I wish you would stay ; 
My boat and my flowers 

You will carry away. 
But I will run after. 

Mother says that I may ; 
For I would know where 

You are running away." 
So Mary ran after, 

But I have heard say 
That she never could tell 

Where the brook ran away. 



6 FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

LITTLE MAY 

EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER 

Have you heard the waters singing, 

Little May, 
Where the willows green are bending 

O'er their way ? 
Do you know how low and sweet, 
O'er the pebbles at their feet, 
Are the words the waves repeat, 

Night and day ? 

Have you heard the robins singing. 

Little one, 
When the rosy dawn is breaking, — 

When 't is done ? 
Have you heard the wooing breeze, 
In the blossomed orchard trees. 
And the drowsy hum of bees 

In the sun ? 

All the earth is full of music. 

Little May, — 
Bird, and bee, and water singing 

On its way. 
Let their silver voices fall 
On thy heart with happy call : 
" Praise the Lord, who loveth all," 

Night and day, 

Little May. 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 27 



MAY 



THE CITY CHILD 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

Dainty little maiden, whither would you 
wander ? 

Whither from this pretty home, the home 
where mother dwells? 

" Far and far away," said the dainty little 
maiden, 

"All among the gardens, auriculas, anem- 
ones, 

Roses and lilies and Canterbury bells/' 

Dainty little maiden, whither would you 
wander ? 

Whither from this pretty house, this city 
house of ours ? 

** Far and far away," said the dainty little 
maiden, 

" All among the meadows, the cloyer and 
the clematis, 

Daisies and king-cups and honeysuckle flow- 
ers." 



28 FIRST YEAR— ELECTIVE POEMS 

BED IN SUMMER 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 

In winter I get up at night 
And dress by yellow candle-light. 
In summer, quite the other way, 
I have to go to bed by day. 

I have to go to bed and see 
The birds still hopping on the tree, 
Or hear the grown-up people's feet 
Still going past me in the street. 

And does it not seem hard to you. 
When all the sky is clear and blue. 
And I should like so much to play, 
To have to go to bed by day ? 

UP IN THE MORNING EARLY 

Pretty flowers, tell me why 
All your leaves do open wide. 

Every morning, when on high 
The noble sun begins to ride ? 

This is why, my children dear. 
If you would the reason know ; 



FIRST YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 29 

For betimes the pleasant air 

Very cheerfully does blow : 
And the birds on every tree 

Sing a very merry tune, 
And the little honey-bee 

Comes to suck her sugar soon : 
This is all the reason why 

I my little leaves undo ; 
Children, children, wake and try 

If I have not told you true. 



30 FIRST YEAR— ELECTIVE POEMS 



JUNE 

SUMMER 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

"Winter is cold-hearted, 
Spring is yea and nay, 

Autumn is a weathercock 
Blown every way : 

Summer days for me 

When every leaf is on its tree. 

THE SUN'S TRAVELS 

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 

The sun is not abed when I 

At night upon my pillow lie ; 

Still round the earth his way he takes, 

And morning after morning makes. 

While here at home, in shining day. 
We round the sunny garden play, 
Each little Indian sleepy-head 
Is being kissed and put to bed. 



FIRST YE AR — ELECTIVE POEMS 31 

And when at eve I rise from tea, 
Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea, 
And all the children in the West 
Are getting up and being dressed. 



THE SHEPHERD 

WILLIAM BLAKE 

How sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot ! 
From the morn to the evening he strays ; 
He shall follow his sheep all the day, 
And his tongue shall be filled with praise. 

For he hears the lambs' innocent call. 
And he hears the ewes' tender reply ; 
He is watchful while they are in peace. 
For they know when their shepherd is nigh. 



FIRST YEAR— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 
AND RHYMES 



THE WEATHER 

If the evening 's red, and the morning 

gray, 
It is the sign of a bonnie day ; 
If the evening 's gray and the morning 's 

red, 
The lamb and the ewe will go wet to 

bed. 



WHAT EYERY ONE KNOWS 

Cocks crow in the morn 

To tell ns to rise, 
And he who lies late 

Will never be wise ; 
For early to bed 

And early to rise 
Is the way to be healthy. 

And wealthy, and wise. 



FIRST YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 33 



THINGS TO REMEMBER 



Seldom ** can't," 
Seldom " don't ; " 

Never " shan't," 
Never '' won't." 



SING-SONG 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

Rushes in a watery place, 

And reeds in a hollow ; 
A soaring skylark in the sky, 

There a darting swallow ; 
Where pale blossoms used to hang 

Ripe fruit to follow. 

I LOYE LITTLE PUSSY 

JANE TAYLOR 

I love little Pussy, 
Her coat is so warm ; 
And if I don't hurt her. 
She '11 do me no harm. 



34 FIRST YEAR'— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

So I '11 not pull her tail, 

Nor drive her away, 
But Pussy and I 

Very gently will play. 

She shall sit by my side. 

And I '11 giye her some food; 

And she '11 love me, because 

I am gentle and good. 

• •■«.• 

I never will vex her, 

Nor make her displeased, 

For Puss does n't like 
To be worried or teased. 



CRADLE SONG 

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 

Ere the moon begins to rise 

Or a star to shine, 
All the bluebells close their eyes - 

So close thine. 

Thine, dear, thine ! 

Birds are sleeping in the nest 
On the swaying bough. 

Thus, against the mother's breast 
So sleep thou — 
Sleep, sleep, thou ! 



FIRST YEAR— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 35 

SEWING 

If Mother Nature patches 

The leaves of trees and vines, 
I 'm sure she does her darning 

With the needles of the pine ; 
They are so long and slender, 

And somewhere in full view. 
She has her threads of cobweb, 

And a thimbleful of dew. 

THE DANDELION 

dandelion, yellow as gold. 
What do you do all day ? 

1 just wait here in the tall green grass 
Till the children come to play. 

dandelion, yellow as gold. 
What do you do all night ? 

1 wait and wait till the cool dews fall 
And my hair grows long and white. 

And what do you do when your hair is 
white, 

And the children come to play ? 
They take me up in their dimpled hands. 

And blow my hair away. 



36 FIRST YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

THE SEA PRINCESS 

KATHERINE PYLE 

In a garden of shining sea-weed, 
Set round with twisted shells, 

Under the deeps of the ocean. 
The little sea princess dwells. 

Sometimes she sees the shadow 
Of a great whale passing by, 

Or a white-winged vessel sailing 
Between the sea and sky. 

Without the palace, her sea-horse 
Feeds in his crystal stall. 

And fishes, with scales that glisten. 
Come leaping forth at her call. 

And when the day has faded 
From over the lonesome deep. 

In a shell as smooth as satin 
The princess is rocked to sleep. 

CUNNING BEE 

Said a little wandering maiden 
To a bee with honey laden, 
" Bee, at all the flowers you work, 
Yet in some does poison lurk.'' 



FIRST YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 37 

" That I know, my little maiden," 
Said the bee with honey laden ; 

" But the poison I forsake. 
And the honey only take." 

" Cunning bee, with honey laden, 
That is right," replied the maiden ; 

" So will I, from all I meet. 
Only draw the good and sweet." 



HIAWATHA'S CHILDHOOD 

From The Song of Hiawatha 
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

By the shores of Gitche Gumee, 
By the shining Big-Sea-Water, 
Stood the wigwam of Nokomis 
Daughter of the Moon, Nokomis. 
Dark behind it rose the forest. 
Rose the black and gloomy pine-trees, 
Rose the firs with cones upon them ; 
Bright before it beat the water, 
Beat the clear and sunny water, 
Beat the shining Big-Sea-Water. 

There the wrinkled old Nokomis 
Nursed the little Hiawatha, 
Rocked him in his linden cradle. 
Bedded soft in moss and rushes. 



38 FIRST YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

Safely bound with reindeer sinews ; 

Stilled his fretful wail by saying, 

*'Hush ! the Naked Bear will hear thee ! " 

Lulled him into slumber, singing, 

** Ewa-yea ! my little owlet ! 

Who is this, that lights the wigwam ? 

With his great eyes lights the wigwam ? 

Ewa-yea ! my little owlet." 

Many things Nokomis taught him 
Of the stars that shine in heayen ; 
Showed him Ishkoodah, the comet ; 
Ishkoodah, with fiery tresses ; 
Showed the Death-Dance of the spirits, 
Warriors with their plumes and war-clubs. 
Flaring far away to northward 
In the frosty nights of Winter ; 
Showed the broad white road in heaven, 
Pathway of the ghosts, the shadows, 
Running straight across the heavens. 
Crowded with the ghosts, the shadows. 

At the door, on summer evenings, 
Sat the little Hiawatha ; 
Heard the whispering of the pine-trees, 
Heard the lapping of the water. 
Sounds of music, words of wonder ; 
" Minne-wawa ! " said the pine-trees, 
" Mudway-aushka ! " said the water. 

Saw the fire-fly, Wah-wah-taysee, 
Flitting through the dusk of evening. 
With the twinkle of its candle 



FIRST YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 39 

Lighting up the brakes and bushes, 
And he sang the song of children, 
Sang the song Nokomis taught him : 
" Wah-wah-taysee, little fire-fly. 
Little, flitting, white-fire insect. 
Little, dancing, white-fire creature, 
Light me with your little candle, 
Ere upon my bed I lay me. 
Ere in sleep I close my eyelids ! " 

Saw the moon rise from the water 
Rippling, rounding from the water, 
Saw the flecks and shadows on it. 
Whispered, '* What is that, Nokomis ? " 
And the good Nokomis answered : 
'' Once a warrior, very angry. 
Seized his grandmother, and threw her 
Up into the sky at midnight ; 
Right against the moon he threw her ; 
'T is her body that you see there/' 

Saw the rainbow in the heaven. 
In the eastern sky, the rainbow. 
Whispered, ** What is that, Nokomis ? " 
And the good Nokomis answered : 
" T is the heaven of flowers you see there ; 
All the wild-flowers of the forest. 
All the lilies of the prairie. 
When on earth they fade and perish, 
Blossom in that heaven above us." 

When he heard the owls at midnight. 
Hooting, laughing in the forest, 



40 FIRST YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

" What is that ? " he cried in terror ; 
" What is that/' he said, ** Nokomis ? " 
And the good Nokomis answered : 
** That is but the owl and owlet, 
Talking in their native language, 
Talking, scolding at each other/' 

Then the little Hiawatha 
Learned of eyery bird its language, 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How they built their nests in summer. 
Where they hid themselves in winter, 
Talked with them whene'er he met them. 
Called them ** Hiawatha's Chickens/' 

Of all beasts he learned the language, 
Learned their names and all their secrets, 
How the beavers built their lodges. 
Where the squirrels hid their acorns. 
How the reindeer ran so swiftly. 
Why the rabbit was so timid. 
Talked with them whene'er he met them, 
Called them " Hiawatha's Brothers/' 



SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 

SEPTEMBER 

SEPTEMBER 

HELEN HUNT JACKSON 

TJie golden-rod is yellow, 
The corn is turning brown ; 

The trees in apple orchards 
With fruit are bending down. 

The gentian's bluest fringes 

Are curling in the sun ; 
In dusty pods the milkweed 

Its hidden silk has spun. 

The sedges flaunt their harvest, 

In every meadow-nook ; 

And asters by the brookside 

Make asters in the brook. 
• . • • . 

By all these lovely tokens 
September days are here, 

With summer's best of wealth 
And autumn's best of cheer. 



42 SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



OCTOBER 



JACK FROST 

CELIA THAXTER 

Rustily creak the crickets : Jack Frost 

came down last night, 
He slid to the earth on a star-beam, keen 

and sparkling and bright ; 
He sought in the grass for crickets with 

delicate icy spear, 
So sharp and fine and fatal, and he stabbed 

them far and near. 



SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 43 



NOVEMBER 

SNOWFLAKES 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

Out of the bosom of the Air, 

Out of the cloud-folds of her garments 
shaken, 
Oyer the woodlands brown and bare, 
Over the haryest-fields forsaken. 
Silent, and soft, and slow 
Descends the snow. 



44 SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 

DECEMBER 

AS JOSEPH WAS A-WALKING 

AN OLD ENGLISH CAROL 

As Joseph was a- walking, 

He heard an angel sing, 
** This night shall be the birth-night 

Of Christ our heavenly King. 
His birth-bed shall be neither 

In housen nor in hall. 
Nor in the place of paradise, 

But in the oxen's stall. 
He neither shall be rockfed 

In silver nor in gold. 
But in the wooden manger 

That lieth in the mould. 
He neither shall be clothed 

In purple nor in pall. 
But in the fair, white linen 

That usen babies all.*' 

As Joseph was a-walking, 

Thus did the angel sing. 
And Mary's son at midnight 

Was born to be our King. 
Then be you glad, good people, 

At this time of the year ; 
And light you up your candles. 

For his star it shineth clear. 



SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 45 



JANUARY 



WINTER 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

The frost is here, 

And fuel is dear, 

And woods are sear. 

And fires burn clear. 

And frost is here 

And has bitten the heel of the going year. 

Bite, frost, bite ! 
You roll up away from the light 
The blue woodlouse and the plump dor- 
mouse, 
And the bees are stilFd, and the flies are kilFd, 
And you bite far into the heart of the house. 
But not into mine. 

Bite, frost, bite ! 

The woods are all the searer, 

The fuel is all the dearer, 

The fires are all the clearer. 

My spring is all the nearer, 

You have bitten into the heart of the earth. 

But not into mine. 



46 SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



FEBRUARY 



A FABLE 

RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

The mountain and the squirrel 

Had a quarrel, 

And the former called the latter "Little Prig." 

Bun replied, 

"You are doubtless very big ; 

But all sorts of things and weather 

Must be taken in together. 

To make up a year 

And a sphere. 

And I think it no disgrace 

To occupy my place. 

If I 'm not so large as you. 

You are not so small as I, 

And not half so spry. 

1 11 not deny you make 

A very pretty squirrel track ; 

Talents differ ; all is well and wisely put ; 

If I cannot carry forests on my back. 

Neither can you crack a nut.'' 



SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 47 



MARCH 



MARCH 

CELIA THAXTER 

I wonder what spendthrift chose to spill 
Such bright gold under my window-sill ! 
Is it fairy gold ? Does it glitter still ? 
Bless me ! it is but a daffodil ! 

And look at the crocuses, keeping tryst 
With the daffodil by the sunshine kissed ! 
Like beautiful bubbles of amethyst 
They seem, blown out of the earth's snow- 
mist. 

March that blusters and March that blows. 
What color under your footsteps glows ! 
Beauty you summon from winter snows. 
And you are the pathway that leads to the 
rose. 



48 SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 

APRIL 

SPRING 

CELIA THAXTER 

The alder by the river 

Shakes out her powdery curls ; 
The willow buds in siher 

For little boys and girls. 
The little birds fly over, 

And oh, how sweet they sing ! 
To tell the happy children 

That once again 't is spring. 

The gay green grass comes creeping 

So soft beneath their feet 
The frogs begin to ripple 

A music clear and sweet. 
And buttercups are coming. 

And scarlet columbine. 
And in the sunny meadows 

The dandelions shine. 

And just as many daisies 

As their soft hands can hold. 
The little ones may gather, 

All fair in white and gold. 
Here blows the warm red clover. 

There peeps the violet blue ; 
O happy little children ! 

God made them all for you. 



SECOND YEAR— REQUIRED POEMS 49 



MAY 



SONG OF THE FAIRY 

From A Midsummer Nighfs Dream 
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Over hill, over dale, 

Thorough bush, thorough brier, 
Over park, over pale, 

Thorough flood, thorough fire, 
I do wander everywhere. 
Swifter than the moon's sphere ; 
And I serve the fairy queen, 
To dew her orbs upon the green ; 
The cowslips tall her pensioners be ; 
In their gold coats spots you see ; 
These be rubies, fairy favours — 
In those freckles live their savours : 
I must go seek some dewdrops here. 
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 



50 SECOND YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



JUNE 



A MORNING SONG 

From Cymheline 
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Hark ! hark ! the lark at heaven's gate 
sings, 

And Phoebus 'gins arise, 
His steeds to water at those springs 

On chaliced flowers that lies ; 
And winking Mary-buds begin 

To ope their golden eyes : 
With everything that pretty is, 

My lady sweet, arise : 
Arise, arise ! 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

SEPTEMBER 

LADY-BIRD 

CAROLINE B. SOUTHEY 

Lady -bird, lady-bird ! fly away home ! 

The field-mouse has gone to her nest, 
The daisies have shut up their sleepy red 
eyes, 

And the bees and the birds are at rest. 

Lady-bird, lady-bird ! fly away home ! 

The glow-worm is lighting her lamp, 
The dew 's falling fast, and your fine spec- 
kled wings 

Will flag with the close-clinging damp. 

Lady-bird, lady -bird ! fly away home ! 

The fairy bells tinkle afar ! 
Make haste, or they '11 catch you, and har- 
ness you fast 

With a cobweb, to Oberon's car. 



62 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

THE BABIE 

HUGH MILLER 

Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes, 

Nae stockings on her feet ; 
Her supple ankles white as snow, 

Or early blossoms sweet. 

Her simple dress of sprinkled pink, 

Her double, dimpled chin ; 
Her pucker'd lip and bonny mou'. 

With nae ane tooth between. 

Her een sae like her mither's een, 

Twa gentle, liquid things ; 
Her face is like an angel's face — 

We 're glad she has nae wings. 

THE TREE 

BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON 

The Tree's early leaf buds were bursting 

their brown ; 
" Shall I take them away ? " said the Frost, 

sweeping down. 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 53 

" No, leave them alone 
Till the blossoms have grown," 
Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from 
rootlet to crown. 

The Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds 

sung : 
'' Shall I take them away ? " said the Wind, 
as he swung. 

** No, leave them alone 
Till the blossoms have grown," 
Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering 
hung. 

The Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer 

glow : 
Said the child, *' May I gather thy berries 
now ? 

" Yes, all thou canst see : 
Take them ; all are for thee," 
Said the Tree, Avhile he bent down his laden 
boughs low. 



64 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



OCTOBER 

THE CITY MOUSE AND THE 
COUNTRY MOUSE 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

The city mouse lives in a house ; — 
The garden mouse lives in a bower, 

He 's friendly with the frogs and toads, 
And sees the pretty plants in flower. 

The city mouse eats bread and cheese ; — 
The garden mouse eats what he can ; 

We will not grudge him seeds and stocks, 
Poor little timid furry man. 



CRADLE SONG 

RICHARD WATSON GILDER 

In the embers shining bright 
A garden grows for thy delight. 
With roses yellow, red, and white. 

But, O my child, beware, beware ! 
Touch not the roses growing there. 
For every rose a thorn doth bear ! 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 55 

THE CHALLENGE OF THOR 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

I am the God Thor, 
I am the War God, 
I am the Thunderer ! 
Here in my Northland, 
My fastness and fortress, 
Reign I forever ! 

Here amid icebergs 
Rule I the nations ; 
This is my hammer, 
Miolner the mighty ; 
Giants and sorcerers 
Cannot withstand it ! 

These are the gauntlets 
Wherewith I wield it, 
And hurl it afar off; 
This is my girdle ; 
Whenever I brace it. 
Strength is redoubled ! 

The light thou beholdest 
Stream through the heavens, 
In flashes of crimson, 



56 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

Is but my red beard 
Blown by the night-wind, 
AflFrighting the nations ! 

Jove is my brother ; 
Mine eyes are the lightning ; 
The wheels of my chariot 
Roll in the thunder, 
The blows of my hammer 
Ring in the earthquake ! 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 57 



NOVEMBER 

THE FIR-TREE 

EDITH M. THOMAS 

O singing Wind 
Searching field and wood, 

Canst thou find 
Aught that 's sweet or good, 
Flowers, to kiss awake. 
Or dewy grass, to shake. 

Or feathered seed 

Aloft to speed ? 

Replies the wind : 
" I cannot find 
Flowers, to kiss awake. 
Or dewy grass to shake, 

Or feathered seed 

Aloft to speed ; 

Yet I meet 

Something sweet. 
When the scented fir, — 
Balsam-breathing fir — 
In my flight I stir. 



58 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

THE WINTER ROBIN 

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 

Now is that sad time of year 
When no flower or leaf is here ; 
When in misty Southern ways 
Oriole and jay have flown, 
And of all sweet birds, alone 
The robin stays. 

So give thanks at Christmas-tide ; 
Hopes of springtime yet abide ! 
See, in spite of darksome days, 
Wind and rain and bitter chill. 
Snow, and sleet-hung branches, still 
The robin stays ! 

THANKSGIVING-DAY 

LYDIA MARIA CHILD 

Over the river and through the wood, 
To grandfather's house we go ; 
The horse knows the way 
To carry the sleigh 
Through the white and drifted snow, 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 59 

Over the river and through the wood, — 
Oh, how the wind does blow ! 

It stings the toes, 

And bites the nose, 
As over the ground we go. 



Over the river and through the wood. 
Trot fast, my dapple-gray ! 

Spring over the ground. 

Like a hunting hound. 
For this is Thanksgiving-Day. 

Over the river and through the wood. 
And straight through the barnyard gate ! 

We seem to go 

Extremely slow, — 
It is so hard to wait ! 

Over the river and through the wood ; 
Now Grandmother's cap I spy ! 

Hurrah for the fun ! 

Is the pudding done ? 
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie ! 



60 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



DECEMBER 



VERSES FROM SAINT LUKE 

And there were in the same country shep- 
herds abiding in the field, keeping 
watch over their flock by night. 

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon 
them, and the glory of the Lord shone 
round about them : and they were sore 
afraid. 

And the angel said unto them. Fear not : 
for, behold, I bring you good tidings 
of great joy, which shall be to all peo- 
ple. 

For unto you is born this day in the city of 
David a Saviour, which is Christ the 
Lord. 

And this shall be a sign unto you ; ye shall 
find the babe wrapped in swaddling 
clothes, lying in a manger. 

And suddenly there was with the angel a 
multitude of the heavenly host prais- 
ing God, and saying. 

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
peace, good will toward men. 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 61 

A CHRISTMAS CAROL 

DINAH MARIA MULOCK 

God rest ye, merry gentlemen ; let nothing 

you dismay, 
For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born on 

Christmas Day. 

The dawn rose red o'er Bethlehem, the 
stars shone through the gray. 

When Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born 
on Christmas Day. 

God rest ye, little children ; let nothing 

you affright, 
For Jesus Christ, our Saviour, was born this 

happy night ; 

Along the hills of Galilee the white flocks 

sleeping lay. 
When Christ, the Child of Nazareth, was 

born on Christmas Day. 



62 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

CHRISTMAS-TIME ^ 

CHARLES DICKENS 

I have always thought of Christmas-time 
as a good time ; a kind, forgiving, generous, 
pleasant time ; a time when men and women 
and little children seem by one consent to 
open their hearts freely ; and so I say, '* God 
bless Christmas." 

^ Slightly altered. 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 63 



JANUARY 



A NORSE LULLABY 

EUGENE FIELD 

The sky is dark and the hills are white 

As the storm-king speeds from the north 

to-night ; 
And this is the song the storm-king sings, 
As over the world his cloak he flings : 

** Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep ; '' 
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings : 

" Sleep, little one, sleep." 

On yonder mountain-side a vine 
Clings at the foot of a mother pine ; 
The tree bends over the trembling thing. 
And only the vine can hear her sing ; 

" Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep — 
What, shall you fear when I am here ? 

** Sleep, little one, sleep." 

The king may sing in his bitter flight, 
The tree may croon to the vine to-night, 
But the little snowflake at my breast 
Liketh the song / sing the best — 

'* Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep ; 
Weary thou art, a-next my heart. 

Sleep, little one, sleep." 



64 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

A FAREWELL 

CHARLES KINGSLEY 

My fairest child, I have no song to give you ; 
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and 
gray; 
Yet, ere we part, one lesson I can leave you 
For every day. 

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be 
clever ; 
Do noble things, not dream them, all day 
long ; 
And so make life, death, and that vast For- 
ever 

One grand, sweet song. 

THE LIGHTHOUSE 

SIR WALTER SCOTT 

Far in the bosom of the deep, 

O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep ; 

A ruddy gem of changeful light. 

Bound on the dusky brow of night, 

The seaman bids my lustre hail. 

And scorns to strike his timorous sail. 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 65 



FEBRUARY 

THE SNOWDROP 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

Many, many welcomes, 
February fair-maid. 
Ever as of old time, 
Solitary firstling. 
Coming in the cold time, 
Prophet of the gay time. 
Prophet of the May time, 
Prophet of the roses. 
Many, many welcomes, 
February fair-maid ! 

TO A CHILD 

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

Small service is true service while it lasts : 
Of humblest friends, bright creature I 
scorn not one. 
The daisy by the shadow that it casts. 
Protects the lingering dewdrop from the 
sun. 



66 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



GOD BLESS OUR NATIVE LAND 

God bless our native land ! 
Firm may she ever stand, 

Through storm and night : 
When the wild tempests rave, 
Ruler of wind and wave, 
Do Thou our country save 

By Thy great might ! 

For her our prayers shall rise 
To God, above the skies ; 

On Him we wait : 
Thou who art ever nigh, 
Guarding with watchful eye. 
To Thee aloud we cry, 
'' God save the State ! " 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 67 



MARCH 



LINES WRITTEN IN MARCH 

WH.LIAM WORDSWORTH 

The cock is crowing, 

The stream is flowing, 

The small birds twitter, 

The lake doth glitter, 
The green field sleeps in the sun ; 

The oldest and youngest 

Are at work with the strongest ; 

The cattle are grazing, 

Their heads never raising ; 
There are forty feeding like one ! 



Like an army defeated 

The snow hath retreated. 

And now doth fare ill 

On the top of the bare hill ; 
The ploughboy is whooping — anon — anon: 

There 's joy in the mountains ; 

There 's life in the fountains ; 

Small clouds are sailing, 

Blue sky prevailing ; 
The rain is over and gone ! 



68 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

MARCH 

LUCY LARCOM 

March ! March ! March ! They are coming 

In troops to the tune of the wind : 
Red-headed woodpeckers drumming, 

Gold-crested thrushes behind ; 
Sparrows in brown jackets hopping 

Past every gateway and door ; 
Finches with crimson caps stopping 

Just where they stopped years before. 
• •••••• 

March ! March ! March ! They will hurry 

Forth at the wild bugle-sound ; 
Blossoms and birds in a flurry, 

Fluttering all over the ground. 
Hang out your flags, birch and willow ! 

Shake out your red tassels, larch ! 
Up, blades of grass, from your pillow ! 

Hear who is calling you — March ! 

THE FOUR WINDS 

FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 

In winter, when the wind I hear, 
I know the clouds will disappear ; 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 69 

For 't is the wind who sweeps the sky, 
And piles the snow in ridges high. 

In spring, when stirs the wind, I know 
That soon the crocus buds will show ; 
For 't is the wind who bids them wake 
And into pretty blossoms break. 

In summer, when it softly blows. 
Soon red I know will be the rose, 
For 't is the wind to her who speaks 
And brings the blushes to her cheeks. 

In autumn, when the wind is up, 
I know the acorn 's out its cup ; 
For 't is the wind who takes it out 
And plants an oak somewhere about. 



70 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



APRIL 



ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION 

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

Do you ask what the birds say ? The spar- 
row, the doYe, 

The linnet, and thrush say, ** I love and I 
loYe ! '' 

In the winter they 're silent, the wind is so 
strong ; 

What it says I don't know, but it sings a 
loud song. 

But green leaves and blossoms, and sunny 
warm weather. 

And singing and loying, all come back to- 
gether ; 

Then the lark is so brimful of gladness and 
love. 

The green fields below him, the blue sky 
above, s 

That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings 
he, 

*' I love my Love, and my Love loves me." 



SECOND YEAR— ELECTIVE POEMS 71 

THE BLUEBIRD 

EMILY HUNTINGTON MILLER 

I know the song that the bluebird is singing, 
Up in the apple tree where he is swinging. 
Braye little fellow ! the skies may look 

dreary, — 
Nothing cares he while his heart is so cheery. 

Hark ! how the music leaps out from his 

throat ! 
Hark ! was there ever so merry a note ? 
Listen awhile and you '11 hear what he 's 

saying, 
Up in the apple tree swinging and swaying. 

** Dear little blossoms down under the snow, 
You must be weary of winter, I know ; 
Hark, while I sing you a message of cheer ! 
Summer is coming, and springtime is here ! 
Little white snowdrop, I pray you, arise ; 
Bright yellow crocus, come, open your eyes ; 
Sweet little violets, hid from the cold. 
Put on your mantle of purple and gold ! 
Daffodils ! daffodils ! say, do you hear ? — ^^ 
Summer is coming, and springtime is here ! " 



72 . SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

HIE AWAY, HIE AWAY 

SIR WALTER SCOTT 

Hie away, hie away, 
Over bank, over brae. 
Where the copsewood is the greenest. 
Where the fountains glisten sheenest. 
Where the lady-fern grows strongest, 
Where the morning dew lies longest. 
Where the black-cock sweetest sips it. 
Where the fairy latest trips it : 

Hie to haunts right seldom seen, 

Lovely, lonesome, cool, and green, 

Oyer bank and over brae. 

Hie away, hie away ! 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 73 



MAY 



LULLABY FOR TITANIA 

From A Midsummer NigJifs Dream 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

FIRST FAIRY 

You spotted snakes with double tongue, 
Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen ; 

Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong. 
Come not near our fairy queen. 

CHORUS 

Philomel, with melody 
Sing in our sweet lullaby ; 
LuUa, luUa, lullaby ; luUa, luUa, lullaby ! 
Never harm. 
Nor spell, nor charm. 
Come our lovely lady nigh ! 
So good-night, with lullaby. 

SECOND FAIRY 

Weaving spiders, come not here ; 

Hence, you long-legg'd spinners, hence ; 
Beetles black, approach not near ; 

Worm, nor snail, do no offence. 



74 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

CHORUS 

Philomel, with melody 
Sing in our sweet lullaby ; 
LuUa, luUa, lullaby ; luUa, luUa, lullaby ! 
Never harm, 
Nor spell, nor charm, 
Come our lovely lady nigh ! 
So good-night, with lullaby. 



THE FAIRIES 

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM 

Up the airy mountain, 

Down the rushy glen. 
We dare n't go a-hunting 

For fear of little men ; 
Wee folk, good folk, 

Trooping all together ; 
Green jacket, red cap, 

And white owFs feather ! 

Down along the rocky shore 
Some make their home. 

They live on crispy pancakes 
Of yellow tide-foam ; 

Some in the reeds 

Of the black mountain-lake, 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 75 

With frogs for their watch-dogs, 
All night awake. 

High on the hill-top 

The old King sits ; 
He is now so old and gray 

He 's nigh lost his wits. 
With a bridge of white mist 

Columbkill he crosses, 
On his stately journeys 

From Slieveleague to Rosses ; 
Or going up with music 

On cold, starry nights, 
To sup with the Queen 

Of the gay Northern Lights. 



By the craggy hillside. 

Through the mosses bare. 
They have planted thorn-trees 

For pleasure here and there, 
Is any man so daring 

As dig one up in spite, 
He shall find the thornies set 

In his bed at night. 

Up the airy mountain, 
Down the rushy glen. 

We dare n't go a-hunting 
For fear of little men : 



7^ SECOND YE AR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

Wee folk, good folk, 
Trooping all together ; 

Green jacket, red cap, 
And white owl's feather. 



SONG OF THE FAIRIES 

Oh, who is so merry, so merry, heigh ho ! 

As the light-hearted fairy, heigh ho, heigh 
ho! 

He dances and sings 

To the sound of his wings. 

With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho ! 

Oh, who is so merry, so airy, heigh ho ! 
As the light-headed fairy, heigh ho, heigh 
ho! 

His nectar he sips 

From a primrose's lips. 
With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho ! 

Oh, who is so merry, so merry, heigh ho ! 

As the light-footed fairy, heigh ho, heigh 
ho! 

His night is the noon 
And his sun is the moon, 

With a hey, and a heigh, and a ho ! 



SECOND YEAR -ELECTIVE POEMS 77 

JUNE 

A BOY'S SONG 

JAMES HOGG 

Where the pools are bright and deep, 
Where the gray trout lies asleep, 
Up the river, and o'er the lea, 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the blackbird sings the latest, 
Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest. 
Where the nestlings chirp and flee. 
That 's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the mowers mow the cleanest. 
Where the hay lies thick and greenest ; 
There to trace the homeward bee, 
That's the way for Billy and me. 

Where the hazel bank is steepest, 
Where the shadow falls the deepest, 
Where the clustering nuts fall free. 
That 's the way for Billy and me. 



78 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

SEVEN TIMES ONE 

JEAN INGELOW 

There 's no dew left on the daisies and clover, 
There's no rain left in heaven ; 

I Ve said my " seven times '* over and over: 
Seven times one are seven. 

I am old, so old I can write a letter ; 

My birthday lessons are done ; 
The lambs play always, they know no 
better, — 

They are only one times one. 

Moon ! in the night I have seen you 

sailing 
And shining so round and low ; 
You were bright, ah bright ! but your light 
is failing, — 
You are nothing now but a bow. 

You Moon, have you done something wrong 
in heaven, 
That God has hidden your face ? 

1 hope if you have, you '11 soon be forgiven. 
And shine again in your place. 



SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 79 

O velvet bee, you 're a dusty fellow ; 

You 've powdered your legs with gold ! 
O brave marshmary buds, rich and yellow, 

Give me your money to hold ! 

O columbine, open your folded wrapper, 
Where two twin turtle-doves dwell ! 

cuckoo-pint, toll me the purple clapper 
That hangs in your clear green bell ! 

And show me your nest, with the young ones 
in it, — 
I will not steal them away ; 

1 am old! you may trust me, linnet, 

linnet, — 
I am seven times one to-day. 



WISHING 

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM 

Ring-ting ! I wish I were a primrose, 
A bright yellow primrose, blowing in the 
spring ! 
The stooping boughs above me. 
The wandering bee to love me. 
The fern and moss to creep across. 
And the elm tree for our king ! 



80 SECOND YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

Nay — stay ! I wish I were an elm tree, 
A great, lofty elm tree, with green leaves gay ! 
The winds would set them dancing, 
The sun and moonshine glance in. 
The birds would house among the boughs, 
And sweetly sing. 

O — no ! I wish I were a robin, 

A robin or a little wren, everywhere to go ; 
Through forest, field, or garden. 
And ask no leave or pardon. 

Till winter comes with icy thumbs 
To ruffle up our wing ! 

Well— tell ! Where should I fly to, 
Where go to sleep in the dark wood or dell ? 

Before a day was over. 

Home comes the rover. 
For mother's kiss — sweeter this 

Than any other thing. 



SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY 
POEMS AND RHYMES 



TO-DAY 

THOMAS CARLYLE 

Here hath been dawning 
Another blue day : 

Think, wilt thou let it 
Slip useless away. 

Out of Eternity 

This new day was born ; 
Into Eternity 

At night, will return. 

Behold it aforetime 

No eye ever did ; 
So soon it foreyer 

From all eyes is hid. 

Here hath been dawning 
Another blue day : 

Think, wilt thou let it 
Slip useless away. 



82 SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

HUMILITY 

ROBERT HERRICK 

Humble we must be, if to heaven we go ; 
High is the roof there, but the gate is low. 

AN EMERALD IS AS GREEN AS GRASS 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

An emerald is as green as grass ; 

A ruby red as blood ; 
A sapphire shines as blue as heayen ; 

A flint lies in the mud. 

A diamond is a brilliant stone, 
To catch the world's desire ; 

An opal holds a fiery spark ; 
But a flint holds fire. 

THE EAGLE 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

He clasps the crag with crooked hands ; 
Close to the sun in lonely lands, 
Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. 



SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 83 

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ; 
He watches from his mountain walls, 
And like a thunderbolt he falls. 



VIOLETS 

JOHN MOULTRIE 

Under the green hedges after the snow, 
There do the dear little yiolets grow, 
Hiding their modest and beautiful heads 
Under the hawthorn in soft mossy beds. 

Sweet as the roses, and blue as the sky, 
Down there do the dear little violets lie ; 
Hiding their heads where they scarce may 

be seen, 
By the leaves you may know where the 

violet hath been. 



TO VIOLETS 

ROBERT HERRICK 

Welcome, maids of honor ! 

You do bring 

In the Spring, 
And wait upon her. 



84 SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

She has yirgins many, 

Fresh and fair ; 

Yet you are 
More sweet than any. 

You 're the maiden posies, 

And so graced 

To be placed 
Tore damask roses. 

Yet, though thus respected. 

By and by 

Ye do lie 
Poor girls, neglected. 



THE SUCCESSION OF THE FOUR 
SWEET MONTHS 

ROBERT HERRigK 

First, April, she with mellow showers 

Opens the way for early flowers ; 

Then after her comes smiling May, 

In a more rich and sweet array ; 

Next enters June, and brings us more 

Gems than those two that went before : 

Then, lastly, July comes, and she 

More wealth brings in than all those three. 



SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 85 

THE BROWN THRUSH 

LUCY LARCOM 

There 's a merry brown thrush sitting up in 

the tree, 
He 's singing to me ! He 's singing to me ! 
And what does he say, little girl, little boy ? 
" Oh, the world 's running over with joy ! 

Don t you hear ? don't you see ? 

Hush ! Look ! In my tree, 
I 'm as happy as happy can be ! " 

And the brown thrush keeps singing, " A 

nest do you see. 
And five eggs hid by me in the juniper tree ? 
Don't meddle ! don't touch ! little girl, little 

boy. 
Or the world will lose some of its joy ! 
Now I 'm glad ! now I 'm free ! 
And I always shall be, 
If you never bring sorrow to me." 

So the merry brown thrush sings away in 

the tree. 
To you and to me, to you and to me ; 
And he sings all the day, little girl, little 

boy. 



86 SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

" Oh, the world 's running over with joy ; 

But long it won't be, 

Don't you know ? don't you see ? 
Unless we are as good as can be ! " 



THE DANDELIONS 

HELEN GRAY CONE 

On a showery night and still. 

Without a word of warning, 
A trooper band surprised the hill, 

And held it in the morning. 
We were not waked by bugle notes. 

No cheer our dreams invaded, 
But at the dawn their yellow coats 

On the green slopes paraded. 

We careless folk the deed forgot 

Till one day, idly walking, 
We spied upon the self-same spot, 

A crowd of veterans, talking. 
They shook their hoary heads and gray. 

With pride and noiseless laughter. 
Till, well-a-day, they blew away. 

And ne'er were heard of after. 



SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 87 

THE LOST DOLL 

CHARLES KINGSLEY 

I once had a sweet little doll, dears. 

The prettiest doll in the world ; 
Her cheeks were so red and white, dears, 

And her hair was so charmingly curled. 
But I lost my poor little doll, dears, 

As I played in the heath one day ; 
And I cried for her more than a week, dears. 

But I never could find where she lay. 

I found my poor little doll, dears, 

As I played in the heath one day ; 
Folks say she is terribly changed, dears. 

For her paint is all washed away, 
And her arms trodden ofi* by the cows, dears. 

And her hair not the least bit curled ; 
Yet for old sakes' sake, she is still, dears. 

The prettiest doll in the world. 



88 SECOND YEAR— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

HIAWATHA'S SAILING 

From The Song of Hiawatha 
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

" Give me of your bark, O Birch-Tree ! 
Of your yellow bark, O Birch-Tree ! 
Growing by the rushing river. 
Tall and stately in the valley ! 
I a light canoe will build me, 
Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing, 
That shall float upon the river. 
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, 
Like a yellow water-lily ! 

** Lay aside your cloak, O Birch-Tree ! 
Lay aside your white-skin wrapper. 
For the Summer-time is coming, 
And the sun is warm in heaven. 
And you need no white-skin wrapper ! " 

Thus aloud cried Hiawatha 
In the solitary forest, 
By the rushing Taquamenaw, 
"When the birds were singing gayly. 
In the Moon of Leaves were singing. 
And the sun, from sleep awaking. 
Started up and said, '' Behold me ! 
Gheezis, the great Sun, behold me ! " 

And the tree with all its branches 



SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 89 

Rustled in the breeze of morning, 
Saying, with a sigh of patience, 
** Take my cloak, O Hiawatha ! " 

With his knife the tree he girdled ; 
Just beneath its lowest branches. 
Just above the roots, he cut it. 
Till the sap came oozing outward ; 
Down the trunk, from top to bottom. 
Sheer he cleft the bark asunder. 
With a wooden wedge he raised it. 
Stripped it from the trunk unbroken. 

** Giye me of your boughs, O Cedar ! 
Of your strong and pliant branches, 
My canoe to make more steady, 
Make more strong and firm beneath me ! " 

Through the summit of the Cedar 
Went a sound, a cry of horror. 
Went a murmur of resistance ; 
But it whispered, bending downward, 
** Take my boughs, O Hiawatha ! '' 

Down he hewed the boughs of cedar, 
Shaped them straightway to a framework, 
Like two bows he formed and shaped them. 
Like two bended bows together. 

*' Give me of your roots, O Tamarack ! 
Of your fibrous roots, O Larch-Tree ! 
My canoe to bind together. 
So to bind the ends together 
That the water may not enter. 
That the river may not wet me ! " 



90 SECOND YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

And the Larch, with all its fibres, 
Shivered in the air of morning, 
Touched his forehead with its tassels. 
Said, with one long sigh of sorrow, 
'' Take them all, O Hiawatha ! " 

From the earth he tore the fibres. 
Tore the tough roots of the Larch-Tree, 
Closely sewed the bark together, 
Bound it closely to the framework. 

" Giye me of your balm, O Fir-Tree ! 
Of your balsam and your resin. 
So to close the seams together 
That the water may not enter, 
That the river may not wet me ! " 

And the Fir-Tree, tall and sombre. 
Sobbed through all its robes of darkness, 
Rattled like a shore with pebbles. 
Answered wailing, answered weeping, 
** Take my balm, O Hiawatha ! " 

And he took the tears of balsam. 
Took the resin of the Fir-Tree, 
Smeared therewith each seam and fissure, 
Made each crevice safe from water. 

** Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog ! 
All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog ! 
I will make a necklace of them. 
Make a girdle for my beauty. 
And two stars to deck her bosom ! " 

From a hollow tree the Hedgehog 
With his sleepy eyes looked at him. 



SECOND YEAR— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 91 

Shot his shining quills, like arrows, 
Saying, with a drowsy murmur. 
Through the tangle of his whiskers, 
" Take my quills, O Hiawatha ! " 

From the ground the quills he gathered. 
All the little shining arrows. 
Stained them red and blue and yellow, 
With the juice of roots and berries ; 
Into his canoe he wrought them. 
Round its waist a shining girdle, 
Round its bows a gleaming necklace. 
On its breast two stars resplendent. 

Thus the Birch Canoe was builded 
In the valley, by the river. 
In the bosom of the forest ; 
And the forest's life was in it. 
All its mystery and its magic, 
All the lightness of the birch-tree, 
All the toughness of the cedar. 
All the larch's supple sinews ; 
And it floated on the river. 
Like a yellow leaf in Autumn, 
Like a yellow water-lily. 

Paddles none had Hiawatha, 
Paddles none he had or needed. 
For his thoughts as paddles served him. 
And his wishes served to guide him ; 
Swift or slow at will he glided. 
Veered to right or left at pleasure. 



THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 

SEPTEMBER 

THE ARROW AND THE SONG 

HENRY W. LONGFELLOW 

I shot an arrow into the air, 
It fell to earth, I knew not where ; 
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight 
Could not follow it in its flight. 

I breathed a song into the air. 
It fell to earth, I knew not where ; 
For who has sight so keen and strong, 
That it can follow the flight of song ? 

Long, long afterward, in an oak 
I found the arrow, still unbroke ; 
And the song, from beginning to end, 
I found again in the heart of a friend. 



THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 93 



OCTOBER 

OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER 

HELEN HUNT JACKSON 

O suns and skies and clouds of June, 
And flowers of June together, 

Ye cannot rival for one hour 
October's bright blue weather. 

When loud the bumble-bee makes haste. 

Belated, thriftless vagrant, 
And golden-rod is dying fast. 

And lanes with grapes are fragrant ; 

When gentians roll their fringes tight 
To save them for the morning. 

And chestnuts fall from satin burrs 
Without a sound of warning ; 

When on the ground red apples lie 

In piles like jewels shining, 
And redder still on old stone walls 

Are leaves of woodbine twining. 

O suns and skies and flowers of June, 
Count all your boasts together. 

Love loveth best of all the year 
October's bright blue weather. 



94 THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



NOVEMBER 



THE SANDPIPER 

CELIA THAXTER 

Across the narrow beach we flit, 

One little sandpiper and I ; 
And fast I gather, bit by bit, 

The scattered driftwood bleached and dry. 
The wild waves reach their hands for it, 

The wild wind raves, the tide runs high. 
As up and down the beach we flit, — 

One little sandpiper and I. 

Above our heads the sullen clouds 

Scud black and swift across the sky ; 
Like silent ghosts in misty shrouds 

Stand out the white light-houses high. 
Almost as far as eye can reach 

I see the close-reefed vessels fly. 
As fast we flit along the beach, — 

One little sandpiper and I. 

I watch him as he skims along. 

Uttering his sweet and mournful cry ; 

He starts not at my fitful song, 
Or flash of fluttering drapery. 



THIRD YEAR— REQUIRED POEMS 95 

He has no thought of any wrong ; 

He scans me with a fearless eye. 
Stanch friends are we, well tried and strong, 

The little sandpiper and I. 

Comrade, where wilt thou be to-night. 

When the loosed storm breaks furiously ? 
My driftwood fire will burn so bright ! 

To what warm shelter canst thou fly ? 
I do not fear for thee, though wroth 

The tempest rushes through the sky ; 
For are we not God's children both, 

Thou, little sandpiper, and I ? 



96 THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



DECEMBER 



WHILE SHEPHERDS WATCHED 
THEIR FLOCKS BY NIGHT 

NAHUM TATE 

While shepherds watched their flocks by 
night, 

All seated on the ground, 
The angel of the Lord came down, 

And glory shone around. 
** Fear not," said he, for mighty dread 

Had seized their troubled mind ; 
"Glad tidings of great joy I bring 

To you and all mankind. 

'' To you, in David's town, this day. 

Is born of David's line 
A Saviour, who is Christ the Lord, 

And this shall be the sign : 
The heavenly babe you there shall find 

To human view displayed. 
All meanly wrapped in swaddling bands. 

And in a manger laid.'* 

Thus spake the seraph ; and forthwith 
Appeared a shining throng 



THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 97 

Of angels, praising God, who thus 

Addressed their joyful song : 
** All glory be to God on high, 

And to the earth be peace ; 
Good-will henceforth from heaven to men 

Begin and never cease." 



98 THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



JANUARY 

ABOU BEN ADHEM 

LEIGH HUNT 

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 
Awoke one night from a deep dream of 

peace, 
And saw, within the moonlight in his room. 
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom. 
An Angel writing in a book of gold. 
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem 

bold. 
And to the Presence in the room he said, 
*' What writest thou ? " The Vision raised 

its head, 
And, with a look made of all sweet accord 
Answered, " The names of those who love 

the Lord ! " 
" And is mine one ? '* said Abou. ** Nay, 

not so," 
Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low. 
But cheerly still ; and said, *' I pray thee 

then. 
Write me as one that loves his fellow- 
men." 



THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 99 

The Angel wrote, and yanished. The next 

night 
It came again, with a great wakening light, 
And showed the names whom love of God 

had blest ; 
And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 



LofC. 



100 THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



FEBRUARY 



WINTER RAIN 

CHRISTINA G. ROSSETTI 

Every yalley drinks, 

Every dell and hollow ; 
Where the kind rain sinks and sinks, 

Green of spring will follow. 

Yet a lapse of weeks. 

Buds will burst their edges, 
Strip their wool-coats, glue-coats, streaks, 

In the woods and hedges. 

• . . . . . • • 

But for fattening rain 

We should have no flowers ; 
Never a bud or leaf again 

But for soaking showers ; 

Never a mated bird 

In the rocking tree-tops ; 
Never indeed a flock or herd 

To graze upon the lea-crops ; 

• • • • • • '<• • 

We should flnd no moss 
In the shadiest places ; 



THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 101 

Find no waving meadow-grass 
Pied with broad-eyed daisies ; 

But miles of barren sand, 

With never a son or daughter, 

Not a lily on the land, 
Or lily on the water. 



102 THIRD YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 



MARCH 

MARCH 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 

The stormy March is come at last, 

With wind, and cloud, and changing 
skies ; 

I hear the rushing of the blast, 

That through the snowy valley flies. 

Ah, passing few are they who speak, 
Wild, stormy month, in praise of thee ; 

Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak. 
Thou art a welcome month to me. 

For thou to northern lands again 

The glad and glorious sun dost bring ; 

And thou hast joined the gentle train 
And wear'st the gentle name of Spring. 



THIRD YEAR— REQUIRED POEMS 103 



APRIL 



WILD GEESE 

CELIA THAXTER 

The wind blows, the sun shines, the birds 
sing loud, 

The blue, blue sky is flecked with fleecy- 
dappled cloud, 

Over earth's rejoicing fields the children 
dance and sing. 

And the frogs pipe in chorus, " It is spring ! 
It is spring ! " 

The grass comes, the flower laughs where 

lately lay the snow. 
O'er the breezy hill-top hoarsely calls the 

crow. 
By the flowing river the alder catkins 

swing. 
And the sweet song-sparrow cries, " Spring ! 

It is spring ! " 

Hark, what a clamor goes winging through 

the sky ! 
Look, children ! Listen to the sound so 

wild and high ! 



104 THIRD YEAR— REQUIRED POEMS 

Like a peal of broken bells, — kling, klang, 

kling, — 
Far and high the wild geese cry, *' Spring ! 

It is spring ! '' 

Bear the winter off with you, O wild geese 
dear! 

Carry all the cold away, far away from 
here ; 

Chase the snow into the North, strong of 
heart and wing, 

While we share the robin's rapture, cry- 
ing, " Spring ! It is spring ! " 



THIRD YEAR— REQUIRED POEMS 105 



MAY 



THE CLOUD 

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

I bring fresh showers for the thirsting 
flowers, 

From the seas and the streams ; 
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 

In their noonday dreams. 
From my wings are shaken the dews that 
waken 

The sweet buds every one, 
When rocked to rest on their mother's 
breast, 

As she dances about the sun. 
I wield the flail of the lashing hail. 

And whiten the green plains under. 
And then again I dissolve it in rain, 

And laugh as I pass in thunder. 

I am the daughter of earth and water. 
And the nursling of the sky ; 

I pass through the pores of the ocean and 
shores ; 
I change, but I cannot die. 



106 THIF.D YEAR — REQUIRED POEMS 

JUNE 

RAIN IN SUMMER 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

How beautiful is the rain ! 

After the dust and heat, 

In the broad and fiery street, 

In the narrow lane. 

How beautiful is the rain ! 

How it clatters along the roofs, 

Like the tramp of hoofs ! 

How it gushes and struggles out 

From the throat of the overflowing spout ! 

Across the window pane 

It pours and pours ; 

And swift and wide, 

With a muddy tide. 

Like a river down the gutter roars 

The rain, the welcome rain ! 

• •••••• • 

In the country, on every side, 

Where far and wide. 

Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide. 

Stretches the plain. 

To the dry grass and the drier grain 

How welcome is the rain ! 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

SEPTEMBER 

DONT GIVE UP 

PHCEBE GARY 

If you Ve tried and have not won, 

Never stop for crying ; 
All that 's great and good is done 

Just by patient trying. 

Though young birds, in flying, fall. 
Still their wings grow stronger ; 

And the next time they can keep 
Up a little longer. 

Though the sturdy oak has known 
Many a blast that bowed her, 

She has risen again, and grown 
Loftier and prouder. 

If by easy work you beat. 

Who the more will prize you ? 

Gaining victory from defeat, 
That 's the test that tries you ! 



108 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

FLOWER IN THE CRANNIED WALL 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

Flower in the crannied wall, 

I pluck you out of the crannies, 

I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 

Little flower — but if I could understand 

What you are, root and all, and all in all, 

I should know what God and man is. 

FRIENDS 

L. G. WARNER 

North wind came whistling through the 

wood. 
Where the tender, sweet things grew. 
The tall fair ferns and the maiden's hair, 
And the gentle gentians blue, 
** It is very cold ; are we growing old ? '* 
They sighed, " What shall we do ? " 

The sigh went up to the loving leayes, — 

" We must help,** they whispered low. 

" They are frightened and weak, O braye old 

trees ! 
But we loYC you well, you know." 



THIRD YE AR — ELECTIVE POEMS 109 

And the trees said, ** We are strong — make 

haste ! 
Down to the darlings go." 

So the leaves went floating, floating down, 

All yellow and brown and red, 

And the frail little trembling, thankful things 

Lay still and were comforted. 

And the blue sky smiled through the bare 

old trees 
Down on their safe warm bed. 



110 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



OCTOBER 



INDIAN SUMMER 

From The Eve of Election 
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 

From gold to gray 

Our mild, sweet day 
Of Indian Summer fades too soon ; 

But tenderly 

Above the sea 
Hangs, white and calm, the hunter's moon, 

In its pale fire 

The village spire 
Shows like the zodiac's spectral lance ; 

The painted walls 

Whereon it falls 
Transfigured stand in marble trance. 

ROBIN REDBREAST 

WILLIAM ALLINGHAM 

Good-bye, good-bye to summer ! 

For summer 's nearly done ; 
The garden smiling faintly. 

Cool breezes in the sun ; 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 111 

Our thrushes now are silent, 

Our swallows flown away, — 
But Robin 's here, in coat of brown, 

And scarlet breast-knot gay. 
Robin, Robin Redbreast, 

O Robin dear ! 
Robin sings so sweetly 

In the falling of the year. 

Bright yellow, red, and orange. 

The leaves come down in hosts ; 
The trees are Indian princes, 

But soon they '11 turn to ghosts ; 
The scanty pears and apples 

Hang russet on the bough ; 
It 's autumn, autumn, autumn late, 

T will soon be winter now. 
Robin, Robin Redbreast, 

O Robin dear ! 
And what will this poor Robin do ? 

For pinching days are near. 

The fire-side for the cricket. 

The wheat-stack for the mouse. 
When trembling night-winds whistle 

And moan all round the house. 
The frosty ways like iron. 

The branches plumed with snow, — 
Alas ! in winter dead and dark. 

Where can poor Robin go ? 



112 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

Robin, Robin Redbreast, 

O Robin dear ! 
And a crumb of bread for Robin, 

His little heart to cheer. 



THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

Under a spreading chestnut-tree 

The Tillage smithy stands ; 
The smith, a mighty man is he. 

With large and sinewy hands ; 
And the muscles of his brawny arms 

Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long. 

His face is like the tan ; 
His brow is wet with honest sweat, 

He earns whatever he can. 
And looks the whole world in the face, 

For he owes not any man. 

Week in, week out, from morn till night. 
You can hear his bellows blow ; 

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge. 
With measured beat and slow. 

Like a sexton ringing the village bell, 
When the evening sun is low. 



/ 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 113 

And children coming home from school 

Look in at the open door ; 
They love to see the flaming forge, 

And hear the bellows roar, 
And catch the burning sparks that fly 

Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 

He goes on Sunday to the church. 

And sits among his boys ; 
He hears the parson pray and preach, 

He hears his daughter's voice. 
Singing in the village choir. 

And it makes his heart rejoice. 

It sounds to him like her mother's voice. 

Singing in Paradise ! 
He needs must think of her once more, 

How in the grave she lies ; 
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 

A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, — 

Onward through life he goes ; 
Each morning sees some task begin. 

Each evening sees it close ; 
Something attempted, something done, 

Has earned a night's repose. 

Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend. 
For the lesson thou hast taught ! 



114 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

Thus at the flaming forge of life 
Our fortunes must be wrought ; 

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
Each burning deed and thought ! 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 115 



NOVEMBER 

NO! 

THOMAS HOOD 

No sun — no moon ! 
No morn — no noon ! 
No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of 
day — 
No sky — no earthly view — 
No distance looking blue — 
No road — no street — no '* t 'other side the 
way," 
• • • • • • • 

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful 
ease, 

No comfortable feel in any member — 
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees — 

No — vember ! 

NOVEMBER 

ALICE CARY 

The leaves are fading and falling. 
The winds are rough and wild, 

The birds have ceased their calling, 
But let me tell you, my child, 



116 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

Though day by day, as it closes, 
Doth darker and colder grow. 

The roots of the bright red roses 
Will keep alive in the snow. 

And when the winter is over, 
The boughs will get new leaves, 

The quail come back to the clover, 
And the swallow back to the eaves. 



There must be rough, cold weather, 
And winds and rains so wild ; 

Not all good things together 
Come to us here, my child. 

So, when some dear joy loses 
Its beauteous summer glow, 

Think how the roots of the roses 
Are kept alive in the snow. 



THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM 

The Lord is my shepherd ; I shall not want. 
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures ; 

he leadeth me beside the still waters. 
He restoreth my soul : he leadeth me in the 

paths of righteousness for his name's 

sake. 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 117 

Yea, though I walk through the valley of 
the shadow of death, I will fear no evil : 
for thou art with me ; thy rod and thy 
staff they comfort me. 

Thou preparest a table before me in the 
presence of mine enemies : thou an- 
ointest my head with oil : my cup run- 
neth over. 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me 
all the days of my life ; and I will dwell 
in the house of the Lord for ever. 



118 THIRD YEAR— ELECTIVE POEMS 



DECEMBER 



CHRISTMAS CAROL 

ROBERT HERRICK 

What sweeter music can we bring 

Than a carol for to sing 

The Birth of this our heayenly King ? 

• • • • • 

Dark, dull night, fly hence away. 
And give the honor to this day, 
That sees December turned to May. 

• • • • • • 

Why does the chilling winter morn 
Smile like a field beset with corn ; 
Or smell like to a mead new-shorn 
Thus on the sudden ? Come and see 
The cause, why things thus fragrant be. 
'T is He is born, whose quickening birth 
Gives life and lustre, public mirth. 
To heaven and the under-earth. 

• • • • • • 

The Darling of the world is come. 
And fit it is we find a room 
To welcome Him. The nobler part 
Of all the house here is the heart, 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 119 

Which we will give Him, and bequeath 
This holly and this ivy wreath, 
To do him honor who 's our King, 
And Lord of all our revelling. 



HILDA'S CHRISTMAS 

M. A. L. LANE 

Standing apart from the childish throng, 
Little Hilda was silent and sad ; 
She could not join in the happy song. 
She could not echo the voices glad. 

** What can I do on Christmas day ? 

I am so little and we are so poor," 

She said to herself in a dreary way ; 

" I wish there was never a Christmas more." 

" Mother is sick and father can't know 
How children talk of their gifts and joy. 
Or he 'd surely try, he loves me so. 
To get me just one single toy." 

" But Christmas is n't for what you get," 
She heard a small, sweet, tender voice, — 
" It 's for what you give," said wee Janet, 
And the words made Hilda's heart rejoice. 



120 THIRD YEAR— ELECTIVE POEMS 

" It isn't our birthday," went on the mite, 
" It is Christ's, you know ; and I think he'd 

say 
If he were to talk with us to-night 
That he 'd wish us to keep it his own way." 

A plan came into Hilda's head ; 
It seemed to her she could hardly wait. 
" I can't give nice things," she bravely said, 
** But I '11 do what I can to celebrate." 

•' I can give the baby a day of fun ; 
I can take my plant to the poor, lame boy ; 
I can do mother's errands — every one ; 
And my old kite I can mend for Roy. 

*' I can read to father and save his eyes ; 
I can feed the birds in the locust grove ; 
I can give the squirrels a fine surprise ; 
And Grandma shall have a letter of love." 

Now when that busy day was done, 
And tired Hilda crept to bed, 
She forgot that she had no gift of her own, — 
" What a lovely Christmas it was ! " she said. 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 121 

NEW YEAR'S EVE 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
The flying cloud, the frosty light : 
The year is dying in the night ; 

Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. 

Ring out the old, ring in the new. 
Ring, happy bells, across the snow : 
The year is going, let him go ; 

Ring out the false, ring in the true. 
• • • • • • 

Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
The civic slander and the spite ; 
Ring in the love of truth and right, 

Ring in the common love of good. 

Ring out old shapes of foul disease ; 

Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ; 

Ring out the thousand wars of old. 
Ring in the thousand years of peace. 

Ring in the valiant man and free. 
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ; 
Ring out the darkness of the land, 

Ring in the Christ that is to be. 



122 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



JANUARY 

THE FOUR WINDS 

From The Song of Hiawatha 
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

** Honor be to Mudjekeewis ! *' 
With a shout exclaimed the people, 
" Honor be to Mudjekeewis ! 
Henceforth he shall be the West-Wind, 
And hereafter and forever 
Shall he hold supreme dominion 
Over all the winds of heaven. 
Call him no more Mudjekeewis, 
Call him Kabeyun, the West-Wind ! " 

Thus was Mudjekeewis chosen 
Father of the Winds of Heaven. 
For himself he kept the West-Wind, 
Gave the others to his children ; 
Unto Wabun gave the East-Wind, 
Gave the South to Shawondasee, 
And the North-Wind, wild and cruel, 
To the fierce Kabibonokka. 

WABUN, THE EAST-WIND 

Young and beautiful was Wabun ; 
He it was who brought the morning, 



THIRD YE AR — ELECTIVE POEMS 123 

He it was whose silver arrows 
Chased the dark o'er hill and valley ; 
He it was whose cheeks were painted 
With the brightest streaks of crimson, 
And whose yoice awoke the yillage, 
Called the deer, and called the hunter. 



THE NORTH-WIND 

But the fierce Kabibonokka 
Had his dwelling among icebergs. 
In the everlasting snow-drifts, 
In the kingdom of Wabasso, 
In the land of the White Rabbit. 
He it was whose hand in Autumn 
Painted all the trees with scarlet. 
Stained the leaves with red and yellow ; 
He it was who sent the snow-flakes. 
Sifting, hissing through the forest. 
Froze the ponds, the lakes, the rivers. 
Drove the loon and sea-gull southward, 
Drove the cormorant and curlew 
To their nests of sedge and sea-tang 
In the realms of Shawondasee. 



THE SOUTH-WIND 

Shawondasee, fat and lazy, 
Had his dwelling far to southward. 
In the drowsy, dreamy sunshine, 



124 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

In the never-ending Summer. 

He it was who sent the wood-birds, 

Sent the robin, the Opechee, 

Sent the bluebird, the Owaissa, 

Sent the Shawshaw, sent the swallow, 

Sent the wild-goose, Wawa, northward, 

Sent the melons and tobacco. 

And the grapes in purple clusters. 

From his pipe the smoke ascending 
Filled the sky with haze and vapor. 
Filled the air with dreamy softness, 
Gave a twinkle to the water. 
Touched the rugged hills with smoothness. 
Brought the tender Indian Summer 
To the melancholy north-land. 
In the dreary Moon of Snow-shoes. 

Thus the Four Winds were divided ; 
Thus the sons of Mudjekeewis 
Had their stations in the heavens. 
At the corners of the heavens ; 
For himself the West-Wind only 
Kept the mighty Mudjekeewis. 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 125 



FEBRUARY 

STANZAS ON FREEDOM 

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 

Is true Freedom but to break 
Fetters for our own dear sake, 
And, with leathern hearts, forget 
That we owe mankind a debt ? 
No ! true Freedom is to share 
All the chains our brothers wear, 
And, with heart and hand, to be 
Earnest to make others free ! 

They are slaves who fear to speak 
For the fallen and the weak ; 
They are slaves who will not choose 
Hatred, scoffing, and abuse. 
Rather than in silence shrink 
From the truth they needs must think 
They are slaves who dare not be 
In the right with two or three. 



126 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



CIVIC CREED 1 

God hath made of one blood all nations of 
men, and we are his children, — brothers and 
sisters all. We are citizens of these United 
States, and we believe our Flag stands for 
self-sacrifice for the good of all the people. 
We want, therefore, to be true citizens of 
our great country, and will show our love 
for her by our works. 

Our country does not ask us to die for her 
welfare ; she asks us to live for her, and so 
to live and so to act that her government 
may be pure, her officers honest, and every 
corner of her territory shall be a place fit to 
grow the best men and women, who shall 
rule over her* 

1 Slightly altered from the Civic Creed, as written by Miss Mary 
McDowell for the children and young people of the University Settle- 
ment, Chicago, Illinois. 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 127 

MY NATIVE LAND 

From The Lay of the Last Minstrel 
SIR WALTER SCOTT 

Breathes there a man, with soul so dead, 
Who neyer to himself hath said, 

" This is my own — my native land ! " 
Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned. 
As home his footsteps he hath turned 

From wandering on a foreign strand ? 
If such there breathe, go, mark him well ; 
For him no minstrel raptures swell ; 
High though his titles, proud his name. 
Boundless his wealth as wish can claim, — 
Despite those titles, power, and pelf. 
The wretch, concentered all in self, 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown. 
And, doubly dying, shall go down 
To the vile dust from whence he sprung. 
Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. 



128 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



MARCH 



GREEK CHILDREN'S SONG 

The swallow has come again 

Across the wide, white sea ; 

She sits and sings through the falling rain, 

" O March, my beloved March ! 

And thou, sad February, 

Though still you may cover with snow the 

plain. 
You yet smell sweet of the spring ! " 



SPRING HAS COME 

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

The sunbeams, lost for half a year. 

Slant through my pane their morning 
rays ; 

For dry northwesters cold and clear. 
The east blows in its thin blue haze. 

And first the snowdrop's bells are seen. 
Then, close against the sheltering wall. 

The tulip's horn of dusky green, 
The peony's dark unfolding ball. 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 129 

The golden-chaliced crocus burns ; 

The long narcissus-blades appear ; 
The corn-beaked hyacinth returns 

To light her blue-flamed chandelier. 



The elms have robed their slender spray 
With full-blown flower and embryo leaf; 

Wide o'er the clasping arch of day ^ 
Soars like a cloud their hoary chief. 

. . • * 

When wake the violets, Winter dies ; 

When sprout the elm-buds, Spring is near ; 
When lilacs blossom. Summer cries, ^^ 
** Bud, little roses ! Spring is here ! " 



DAYBREAK 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

A wind came up out of the sea. 

And said, '' O mists, make room for me." 

It hailed the ships, and cried, '* Sail on, 
Ye mariners, the night is gone." 

And hurried landward far away,^ 
Crying, '' Awake ! it is the day." 



130 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

It said unto the forest, " Shout ! 
Hang all your leafy banners out! " 

It touched the wood-bird's folded wing, 
And said, " O bird, awake and sing/' 

And o'er the farms, ** O chanticleer, 
Your clarion blow ; the day is near." 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 131 



APRIL 

APRIL AND MAY 

From May-Day 
RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

April cold with dropping rain 
Willows and lilacs brings again, 
The whistle of returning birds, 
And trumpet-lowing of the herds. 
The scarlet maple-keys betray 
What potent blood hath modest May, 
What fiery force the earth renews. 
The wealth of forms, the flush of hues ; 
What joy in rosy waves outpoured 
Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord. 

CONCORD HYMN 

RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

By the rude bridge that arched the flood. 
Their flag to April's breeze unfurled. 

Here once the embattled farmers stood. 
And fired the shot heard round the world. 



132 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

The foe long since in silence slept ; 

Alike the conqueror silent sleeps ; 
And Time the ruined bridge has swept 

Down the dark stream which seaward 
creeps. 

On the green bank, by this soft stream, 

We set to-day a votive stone ; 
That memory may their deed redeem. 

When, like our sires, our sons are gone. 

Spirit, that made those heroes dare 
To die, and leave their children free, 

Bid Time and Nature gently spare 
The shaft we raise to them and thee. 



THE CHILDREN'S HOUR 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

Between the dark and the daylight. 
When the night is beginning to lower, 

Comes a pause in the day's occupations, 
That is known as the Children's Hour. 

I hear in the chamber above me 

The patter of little feet, 
The sound of a door that is opened. 

And Yoices soft and sweet. 



THIRD YEAR— ELECTIVE POEMS 133 

From my study I see in the lamplight, 
Descending the broad hall stair, 

Grave Alice, and laughing AUegra, 
And Edith with golden hair. 

A whisper, and then a silence : 
Yet I know by their merry eyes 

They are plotting and planning together 
To take me by surprise. 

A sudden rush from the stairway, 
A sudden raid from the hall ! 

By three doors left unguarded 
They enter my castle wall ! 

They climb up into my turret 

O'er the arms and back of my chair ; 

If I try to escape, they surround me : 
They seem to be everywhere. 

They almost devour me with kisses, 
Their arms about me entwine. 

Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen 
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine ! 

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti. 
Because you haye scaled the wall. 

Such an old mustache as I am 
Is not a match for you all ! 



134 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

I have you fast in my fortress, 
And will not let you depart, 

But put you down into the dungeon, 
In the round-tower of my heart. 

And there will I keep you forever. 

Yes, forever and a day. 
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, 

And moulder in dust away ! 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 135 



MAY 



THE GREENWOOD TREE 

From As You Like It 
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Under the greenwood tree, 
Who loyes to lie with me, 
And tune his merry note 
Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither ! 
Here shall he see 
No enemy 
But winter and rough weather. 

Who doth ambition shun 
And loyes to lie i' the sun, 
Seeking the food he eats. 
And pleased with what he gets, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither ! 
Here shall he see 
No enemy 
But winter and rough weather. 



136 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

THE BROOK 

ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

I come from haunts of coot and hern, 

I make a sudden sally, 
And sparkle out among the fern, 

To bicker down a y alley. 

By thirty hills I hurry down. 
Or slip between the ridges ; 

By twenty thorps, a little town. 
And half a hundred bridges. 

Till last by Philip's farm I flow 
To join the brimming river ; 

For men may come, and men may go. 
But I go on forever. 

I chatter over stony ways, 
In little sharps and trebles, 

I bubble into eddying bays, 
I babble on the pebbles. 

With many a curve my banks I fret 
By many a field and fallow. 

And many a fairy foreland set 
With willow-weed and mallow. 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 137 

I chatter, chatter, as I flow 

To join the brimming river, 
For men may come, and men may go. 

But I go on foreyer. 

I wind about, and in and out. 

With here a blossom sailing. 
And here and there a lusty trout, 

And here and there a grayling. 

And here and there a foamy flake 

Upon me, as I travel. 
With many a silvery water-break 

Above the golden gravel. 

And draw them all along, and flow 

To join the brimming river. 
For men may come, and men may go. 

But I go on forever. 

I steal by lawns and grassy plots, 

I slide by hazel covers ; 
I move the sweet forget-me-nots 

That grow for happy lovers. 

I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance. 
Among my skimming swallows ; 

I make the netted sunbeam dance 
Against my sandy shallows. 



138 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

I murmur under moon and stars 

In brambly wildernesses ; 
I linger by my shingly bars, 

I loiter round my cresses ; 

And out again I curve and flow 
To join the brimming river ; 

For men may come, and men may go, 
But I go on forever. 

PEBBLES 

FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN 

Out of a pellucid brook 
Pebbles round and smooth I took : 
Like a jewel, every one 
Caught a color from the sun, — 
Ruby red and sapphire blue. 
Emerald and onyx too. 
Diamond and amethyst, — 
Not a precious stone I missed : 
Gems I held from every land 
In the hollow of my hand. 
Workman Water these had made ; 
Patiently through sun and shade, 
With the ripples of the rill 
He had polished them until. 
Smooth, symmetrical, and bright. 
Each one sparkling in the light 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 139 

Showed within its burning heart 
All the lapidary's art ; 
And the brook seemed thus to sing : 
Patience conquers everything I 



140 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 



JUNE 



BEFORE THE RAIN 

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH 

We knew it would rain, for all the morn, 
A spirit on slender ropes of mist 

Was lowering its golden buckets down 
Into the vapory amethyst 

Of marshes and*swamps and dismal fens — 
Scooping the dew that lay in the flowers, 

Dipping the jewels out of the sea, 

To scatter them over the land in showers. 

We knew it would rain, for the poplars 
showed 
The white of their leaves, the amber grain 
Shrunk in the wind — and the lightning 
now 
Is tangled in tremulous skeins of rain ! 



THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 141 

THE RAINBOW — A RIDDLE 

FRIEDRICH SCHILLER 

A bridge weaves its arch with pearls 

High over the tranquil sea ; 
In a moment it unfurls 

Its span, unbounded, free. 
The tallest ship with swelling sail 

May pass beneath its arch with ease ; 
It carries no burden, 't is too frail. 

And with your quick approach it flees. 
With the flood it comes, with the rain it 
goes; 

What it is made of nobody knows. 

BUGLE SONG 

From The Princess 
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON 

The splendor falls on castle walls. 

And snowy summits old in story ; 
The long light shakes across the lakes, 
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. 
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes fly- 
ing : 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, 
dying. 



142 THIRD YEAR — ELECTIVE POEMS 

O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, 
And thinner, clearer, farther going ! 

O, sweet and far from cliff and scar 
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! 

Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying. 

Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, 
dying. 

O loye, they die in yon rich sky. 

They faint on hill, or field, or river : 

Our echoes roll from soul to soul. 
And grow for ever and for ever : 

Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. 

And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, 
dying. 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 
AND RHYMES 



THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 

FRANCIS SCOTT KEY 

O say, can you see by the dawn's early 
light, 
What so proudly we hailed at the twi- 
light's last gleaming — 

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through 
the clouds of the fight. 
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so 
gallantly streaming ! 

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs burst- 
ing in air, 

Gave proof through the night that our flag 
was still there ; 

O ! say, does that star-spangled banner yet 
wave 

O'er the land of the free and the home of 
the braye ? 

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists 
of the deep. 



144 THIRD YEAR— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

Where the foe's haughty host in dread 

silence reposes, 
What is that which the breeze, o'er the 

towering steep. 
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now 

discloses ? 
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's 

first beam. 
In full glory reflected, now shines in the 

stream ; 
'T is the star-spangled banner ! O long may 

it wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of 

the brave. 

And where is that band who so vauntingly 

swore. 
That the havoc of war and the battle's 

confusion, 
A home and a country should leave us no 

more ? 
Their blood has washed out their foul 

foot-steps' pollution. 
No refuge could save the hireling and slave 
From the terror of flight, or the gloom of 

the grave ; 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph 

doth wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of 

the brave ! 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 145 

O ! thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 
Between their loved homes and the war's 

desolation ! 
Blest with victory and peace, may the 

heav'n-rescued land 
Praise the Power that hath made and 

preserved us a nation. 
Then conquer we must, when our cause it 

is just, 
And this be our motto : ''In God is our 

trust ; " 
And the star-spangled banner in triumph 

shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of 

the brave ! 



LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS 

FELICIA D. HEMANS 

The breaking waves dashed high 
On a stern and rock-bound coast, 

And the woods against a stormy sky 
Their giant branches tossed ; 

And the heavy night hung dark 

The hills and waters o'er, 
When a band of exiles moored their bark 

On the wild New England shore. 



146 THIRD YEAR -- SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

Not as the conqueror comes, 

They, the true-hearted, came ; 
Not with the roll of the stirring drums, 

And the trumpet that sings of fame ; 

Not as the flying come. 

In silence and in fear ; — 
They shook the depths of the desert gloom 

With their hymns of lofty cheer. 

Amidst the storm they sang. 

And the stars heard, and the sea ; 

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods 
rang 
To the anthem of the free ! 

The ocean eagle soared 

From his nest by the white wave's foam ; 
And the rocking pines of the forest roared, — 

This was their welcome home ! 

There were men with hoary hair 

Amidst that pilgrim band ; — 
Why had they come to wither there. 

Away from their childhood's land ? 

There was woman's fearless eye, 

Lit by her deep loye's truth ; 
There was manhood's brow serenely high. 

And the fiery heart of youth. 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 147 

What sought they thus afar ? 

Bright jewels of the mine ? 
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? — 

They sought a faith's pure shrine ! 

Ay, call it holy ground, 

The soil where first they trod : 

They have left unstained what there they 
found, — 
Freedom to worship God ! 



THE AMERICAN FLAG 

JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE 

When Freedom from her mountain height 
Unfurled her standard to the air. 

She tore the azure robe of night, 
And set the stars of glory there. 

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 

The milky baldric of the skies. 

And striped its pure celestial white 

With streakings of the morning light ; 

Then from his mansion in the sun 

She called her eagle bearer down. 

And gave into his mighty hand 

The symbol of her chosen land. 



148 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

BATTLE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC 

JULIA WARD HOWE 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming 

of the Lord ; 
He is trampling out the vintage where the 

grajDes of wrath are stored, 
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His 

terrible swift sword ; 
His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hun- 
dred circling camps ; 

They have builded Him an altar in the 
evening dews and damps, 

I can read His righteous sentence by the 
dim and flaring lamps ; 
His day is marching on. 



He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall 

never call retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before 

His judgment-seat : 
Oh ! be swift, my soul, to answer Him ! 

be jubilant, my feet ! 
Our God is marching on. 



THIRD YEAR— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 149 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born 

across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures 

you and me : 
As he died to make men holy, let us die to 

make men free, 
While God is marching on. 



OLD IRONSIDES 

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 

Ay, tear her tattered ensign down ! 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky ; 
Beneath it rung the battle shout, 

And burst the cannon's roar ; — 
The meteor of the ocean air 

Shall sweep the clouds no more. 

Her deck, once red with heroes' blood, 

Where knelt the vanquished foe, 
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood, 

And waves were white below, 
No more shall feel the victor's tread. 

Or know the conquered knee ; — 
The harpies of the shore shall pluck 

The eagle of the sea ! 



150 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

Oh, better that her shattered hulk 

Should sink beneath the wave ; 
Her thunders shook the mighty deep, 

And there should be her grave ; 
Nail to the mast her holy flag. 

Set every threadbare sail. 
And give her to the god of storms, 

The lightning and the gale ! 



PASSAGE OF THE APENNINES 

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

Listen, listen, Mary mine. 

To the whisper of the Apennine, 

It bursts on the roof like the thunder's 

roar. 
Or like the sea on a northern shore. 
Heard in its raging ebb and flow 
By the captives pent in the cave below. 
The Apennine in the light of day 
Is a mighty mountain dim and gray. 
Which between the earth and sky doth 

lay; 
But when night comes, a chaos dread 
On the dim starlight then is spread. 
And the Apennine walks abroad with the 

storm. 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 151 

DAYBREAK 

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

Day had awakened all things that be, 

The lark, and the thrush, and the swallow 

free, 
And the milkmaid's song, and the mower's 

scythe. 
And the matin bell and the mountain bee : 
Fireflies were quenched on the dewy corn. 
Glow-worms went out, on the river's brim, 
Like lamps which a student forgets to trim ; 
The beetle forgot to wind his horn, 
The crickets were still in the meadow and 

hill : 
Like a flock of rooks at a farmer's gun. 
Night's dreams and terrors, every one 
Fled from the brains which are its prey. 
From the lamp's death to the morning ray. 

A SEA-SONG 

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM 

A wet sheet and a flowing sea, 

A wind that follows fast. 
And fills the white and rustling sail. 

And bends the gallant mast ; 



152 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

And bends the gallant mast, my boys, 

While, like the eagle free, 
Away the good ship flies, and leaves 

Old England on the lee. 

O for a soft and gentle wind ! 

I heard a fair one cry ; 
But give to me the snoring breeze, 

And white waves heaving high ; 
And white waves heaving high, my lads, 

The good ship tight and free — 
The world of waters is our home, 

And merry men are we. 

There 's tempest in yon hornfed moon. 

And lightning in yon cloud ; 
And hark the music, mariners ! 

The wind is piping loud ; 
The wind is piping loud, my boys, 

The lightning flashes free — 
While the hollow oak our palace is, 

Our heritage the sea. 

THE FOUNTAIN 

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 

Into the sunshine. 

Full of the light. 
Leaping and flashing 

From morn till night ; 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 153 

Into the moonlight, 

Whiter than snow, 
Waving so flower-like 

When the winds blow ; 

Into the starlight 

Rushing in spray, 
Happy at midnight, 

Happy by day ; 

Ever in motion. 

Blithesome and cheery, 

Still climbing heavenward, 
Never aweary ; 

Glad of all weathers. 

Still seeming best, 
Upward or downward, 

Motion thy rest ; 

Full of a nature 

Nothing can tame. 
Changed every moment. 

Ever the same ; 

Ceaseless aspiring, 

Ceaseless content. 
Darkness or sunshine 

Thy element ; 



154 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

Glorious fountain, 

Let my heart be 
Fresh, changeful, constant, 

Upward, like thee ! 



IN SCHOOL-DAYS 

JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER 

Still sits the school-house by the road, 

A ragged beggar sleeping ; 
Around it still the sumachs grow, 

And blackberry vines are creeping. 

Within, the master's desk is seen. 
Deep scarred by raps oJBScial ; 

The warping floor, the battered seats, 
The jack-knife's carved initial ; 

The charcoal frescoes on its wall ; 

Its door's worn sill, betraying 
The feet that, creeping slow to school. 

Went storming out to playing ! 

Long years ago a winter sun 

Shone over it at setting ; 
Lit up its western window-panes. 

And low eaves' icy fretting. 



THIRD YEAR ^SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 155 

It touched the tangled golden curls 
And brown eyes full of grieving, 

Of one who still her steps delayed 
When all the school were leaving. 

For near her stood the little boy 

Her childish favor singled : 
His cap pulled low upon a face 

Where pride and shame were mingled. 

Pushing with restless feet the snow 
To right and left, he lingered ; — 

As restlessly her tiny hands 

The blue-checked apron fingered. 

He saw her lift her eyes ; he felt 
The soft hand's light caressing, 

And heard the tremble of her voice, 
As if a fault confessing. 

" I 'm sorry that I spelt the word : 
I hate to go above you. 
Because," — the brown eyes lower fell, — 
** Because, you see, I love you ! " 

Still memory to a gray-haired man 
That sweet child-face is showing. 

Dear girl ! the grasses on her grave 
Have forty years been growing ! 



156 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

He lives to learn, in life's hard school, 
How few who pass above him 

Lament their triumph and his loss, 
Like her, — because they love him. 



BALLAD OF THE TEMPEST 

JAMES T. FIELDS 

We were crowded in the cabin. 
Not a soul would dare to sleep — 

It was midnight on the waters, 
And a storm was on the deep. 

'T is a fearful thing in winter 
To be shattered by the blast, 

And to hear the rattling trumpet 
Thunder, *' Cut away the mast ! '' 

So we shuddered there in silence, — 
For the stoutest held his breath. 

While the hungry sea was roaring, 
And the breakers talked with Death. 

As thus we sat in darkness. 

Each one busy with his prayers, — 
" We are lost ! " the captain shouted. 
As he staggered down the stairs. 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 157 

But his little daughter whispered, 
As she took his icy hand, 
" Is not God upon the ocean, 

Just the same as on the land ? " 

Then we kissed the little maiden. 
And we spoke in better cheer. 

And we anchored safe in harbor 
When the moon was shining clear. 

MY JEAN 

ROBERT BURNS 

Of a the airts the wind can blaw 

I dearly like the west, 
For there the bonnie lassie lives. 

The lassie I lo'e best. 
There wild woods grow, and rivers row. 

And monie a hill between, 
But day and night my fancy's flight 

Is ever wi' my Jean. 

I see her in the dewy flowers — 

I see her sweet and fair. 
I hear her in the tunefu' birds — 

I hear her charm the air. 
There 's not a bonnie flower that springs 

By fountain, shaw, or green ; 
There 's not a bonnie bird that sings, 

But minds me o' my Jean. 



158 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN 

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

At the corner of Wood Street, when day- 
light appears, 

Hangs a thrush that sings loud, — it has sung 
for three years ; 

Poor Susan has passed by the spot, and has 
heard 

In the silence of morning the song of the 
bird. 

T is a note of enchantment ; what ails her ? 

She sees 
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ; 
Bright Yolumes of vapor through Lothbury 

glide, 
And a river flows on through the vale of 

Cheapside. 

Green pastures she views in the midst of 

the dale, 
Down which she so often has tripped with 

her pail. 
And a single small cottage, a nest like a 

dove's, 
The one only dwelling on earth that she 

loves. 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 159 

She looks, and her heart is in heaven : but 

they fade, 
The mist and the river, the hill and the 

shade : 
The stream will not flow, and the hill will 

not rise. 
And the colors have all passed away from 

her eyes ! 

WINTER AND SPRING 

From The Song of Hiawatha 
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

In his lodge beside a river. 
Close beside a frozen river, 
Sat an old man, sad and lonely. 
White his hair was as a snow-drift ; 
Dull and low his fire was burning, 
And the old man shook and trembled, 
Folded in his Waubewyon, 
In his tattered white-skin- wrapper 
Hearing nothing but the tempest 
As it roared along the forest. 
Seeing nothing but the snow-storm. 
As it whirled and hissed and drifted. 

All the coals were white with ashes. 
And the fire was slowly dying. 
As a young man, walking lightly. 



160 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

At the open doorway entered. 
Red with blood of youth his cheeks were, 
Soft his eyes, as stars in Spring-time, 
Bound his forehead was with grasses ; 
Bound and plumed with scented grasses, 
On his lips a smile of beauty. 
Filling all the lodge with sunshine. 
In his hand a bunch of blossoms 
Filling all the lodge with sweetness. 

" Ah, my son ! '' exclaimed the old man, 
** Happy are my eyes to see you. 
Sit here on the mat beside me. 
Sit here by the dying embers, 
Let us pass the night together. 
Tell me of your strange adventures. 
Of the lands where you have travelled ; 
I will tell you of my prowess, 
Of my many deeds of wonder.'' 

From his pouch he drew his peace-pipe. 
Very old and strangely fashioned ; 
Made of red stone was the pipe-head. 
And the stem a reed with feathers ; 
Filled the pipe with bark of willow. 
Placed a burning coal upon it. 
Gave it to the guest, the stranger. 
And began to speak in this wise : 

'* When I blow my breath about me. 
When I breathe upon the landscape. 
Motionless are all the rivers. 
Hard as stone becomes the water ! '* 



THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 161 

And the young man answered, smil- 
ing : 
*' When I blow my breath about me, 
When I breathe upon the landscape, 
Flowers spring up o'er all the meadows. 
Singing, onward rush the rivers ! " 

'' When I shake my hoary tresses," 
Said the old man darkly frowning, 
'* All the land with snow is covered ; 
All the leaves from all the branches 
Fall and fade and die and wither. 
For I breathe, and lo ! they are not. 
From the waters and the marshes 
Rise the wild goose and the heron, 
Fly away to distant regions, 
For I speak, and lo ! they are not. 
And where'er my footsteps wander. 
All the wild beasts of the forest 
Hide themselves in holes and caverns. 
And the earth becomes as flintstone ! " 

'* When I shake my flowing ringlets," 
Said the young man, softly laughing, 
** Showers of rain fall warm and welcome, 
Plants lift up their heads rejoicing. 
Back unto their lakes and marshes 
Come the wild goose and the heron. 
Homeward shoots the arrowy swallow, 
Sing the bluebird and the robin. 
And where'er my footsteps wander. 
All the meadows wave with blossoms, 



162 THIRD YEAR — SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 

All the woodlands ring with music, 
All the trees are dark with foliage ! " 

While they spake, the night departed : 
From the distant realms of Wabun, 
From his shining lodge of silver, 
Like a warrior robed and painted, 
Came the sun, and said, ** Behold me ! 
Gheezis, the great sun, behold me ! " 

Then the old man's tongue was speech- 
less 
And the air grew warm and pleasant. 
And upon the wigwam sweetly 
Sang the bluebird and the robin. 
And the stream began to murmur, 
And a scent of growing grasses 
Through the lodge was gently wafted. 

And Segwun, the youthful stranger, 
More distinctly in the daylight 
Saw the icy face before him ; 
It was Peboan, the Winter ! 

From his eyes the tears were flowing, 
As from melting lakes the streamlets. 
And his body shrunk and dwindled 
As the shouting sun ascended, 
Till into the air it faded. 
Till into the ground it yanished. 
And the young man saw before him. 
On the hearth-stone of the wigwam. 
Where the fire had smoked and smouldered, 
Saw the earliest flower of Spring-time, 



THIRD YEAR— SUPPLEMENTARY POEMS 163 

Saw the Beauty of the Spring-time, 
Saw the Miskodeed in blossom. 

Thus it was that in the North-land 
After that unheard-of coldness, 
That intolerable Winter, 
Came the Spring with all its splendor. 
All its birds and all its blossoms, 
All its flowers and leaves and grasses. 



LONGER POEMS FOR SUPPLEMENTARY 
READING 

FIRST YEAR 



WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD 

EUGENE FIELD 

Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night 

Sailed off in a wooden shoe — 
Sailed on a river of crystal light, 
Into a sea of dew. 
^' Where are you going, and what do you wish ? " 

The old moon asked the three. 
" We have come to fish for the herring fish 
That live in the beautiful sea ; 
Nets of silver and gold have we ! " 
Said Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 

The old moon laughed and sang a song. 
As they rocked in the wooden shoe. 

And the wind that sped them all night long 
Ruffled the waves of dew. 



FIRST YEAR — LONGER POEMS 165 

The little stars were the herring fish 
That lived in that beautiful sea — 
" Now cast your nets wherever you wish — 
Never afeard are we ; " 
So cried the stars to the fishermen three : 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 

All night long their nets they threw 

To the stars in the twinkling foam — 
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, 

Bringing the fishermen home ; 
'T was all so pretty a sail it seemed 

As if it could not be, 
And some folks thought 't was a dream they 'd 
dreamed 
Of sailing that beautiful sea — 
But I shall name you the fishermen three : 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And Nod. 

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, 

And Nod is a little head. 
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies 

Is a wee one's trundle-bed. 
So shut your eyes while mother sings 

Of wonderful sights that be. 
And you shall see the beautiful things 



166 FIRST YEAR— LONGER POEMS 

As you rock in the misty sea. 

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three 

Wynken, 

Blynken, 

And Nod. 

THE OWL AND THE PUSSY-CAT 

EDWARD LEAR 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea 

In a beautiful pea-green boat ; 
They took some honey, and plenty of money 

Wrapped up in a five-pound note. 
The Owl looked up to the moon above, 

And sang to a small guitar, 
*^ lovely Pussy ! Pussy, my love ! 

What a beautiful Pussy you are, — 
You are. 

What a beautiful Pussy you are ! " 

Pussy said to the Owl, " You elegant fowl ! 

How wonderful sweet you sing ! 
let us be married, — too long we have tarried, - 

But what shall we do for a ring ? " 
They sailed away for a year and a day 

To the land where the Bong-tree grows, 
And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood 

With a ring in the end of his nose, — 
His nose, 

With a ring in the end of his nose. 



FIRST YEAR — LONGER POEMS 167 

" Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling 

Your ring ? " Said the Piggy, " I will." 
So they took it away, and were married next day 

By the turkey who lives on the hill. 
They dined upon mince and slices of quince, 

Which they ate with a runcible spoon. 
And hand in hand on the edge of the sand 

They danced by the light of the moon, — 
The moon. 

They danced by the light of the moon. 

A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS 

CLEMENT C. MOORE 

'T was the night before Christmas, when all through 

the house 
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. 
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care. 
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. 
The children were nestled all snug in their beds. 
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ; 
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap. 
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap — 
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, 
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. 
Away to the window I flew like a flash. 
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash ; 
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow 
Gave a lustre of mid-day to objects below ; 



168 FIRST YEAR— LONGER POEMS 

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, 
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, 
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, 
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. 
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came. 
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by 

name : 
" Now, Dasher ! now. Dancer ! now, Prancer and 

Vixen ! 
On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Donder and Blitzen ! — 
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, 
Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all ! " 
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly. 
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky. 
So, up to the housetop the coursers they flew. 
With a sleigh full of toys — and St. Nicholas too. 
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof 
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. 
As I drew in my head and was turning around, 
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound ; 
He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot. 
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and 

soot : 
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, 
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. 
His eyes, how they twinkled ! his dimples, how 

merry ! 
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ; 
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow. 
And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. 



FIRST YEAR — LONGER POEMS 169 

The stump of a pipe lie held tight in his teeth, 
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. 
He had a broad face, and a little round belly- 
That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of 

jelly. 

He was chubby and plump — a right jolly old elf ; 
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. 
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head. 
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. 
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, 
And filled all the stockings : then turned with a 

jerk. 
And laying his finger aside of his nose. 
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. 
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. 
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. 
But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, 
" Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night ! " 



SECOND YEAR 



PICCOLA 

CELIA THAXTER 

Poor, sweet Piccola ! Did you hear 
What happened to Piccola, children dear ? 
'T is seldom Fortune such favor grants 
As fell to this little maid of France. 

'T was Christmas-time, and her parents poor 
Could hardly drive the wolf from the door, 
Striving with poverty's patient pain 
Only to live till summer again. 

No gifts for Piccola ! Sad were they 
When dawned the morning of Christmas-day; 
Their little darling no joy might stir, 
St. Nicholas nothing would bring to her ! 

But Piccola never doubted at all 
That something beautiful must befall 
Every child upon Christmas-day, 
And so she slept till the dawn was gray. 



SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 171 

And full of faith, when at last she woke, 
She stole to her shoe as the morning broke ; 
Such sounds of gladness filled the air, 
'T was plain St. Nicholas had been there ! 

In rushed Piccola sweet, half wild : 
Never was seen such a joyful child. 
" See what the good saint brought ! '' she cried, 
And mother and father must peep inside. 

Now such a story who ever heard? 
There was a little shivering bird ! 
A sparrow, that in at the window flew, 
Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe ! 

" How good poor Piccola must have been ! " 
She cried, as happy as any queen. 
While the starving sparrow she fed and warmed, 
And danced with rapture, she was so charmed. 

Children, this story I tell to you. 
Of Piccola sweet and her bird, is true. 
In the far-off land of France, they say, 
Still do they live to this very day. 



172 SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

NIKOLINA 

CELIA THAXTER 

Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her — 
The tiny maid from Norway, Nikolina ? 
Oh, her eyes are blue as corn-flowers 'mid the corn, 
And her cheeks are rosy red as skies of morn ! 

Oh, buy the baby's blossoms if you meet her. 
And stay with gentle words and looks to greet her ; 
She '11 gaze at you and smile and clasp your hand. 
But no word of your speech can understand. 

Nikolina ! Swift she turns if any call her. 

As she stands among the poppies hardly taller, 

Breaking off their scarlet cups for you. 

With spikes of slender larkspur, brightly blue. 

In her little garden many a flower is growing — 
Red, gold, and purple in the soft wind blowing ; 
But the child that stands amid the blossoms gay 
Is sweeter, quainter, brighter even than they. 

Oh, tell me, little children, have you seen her — 
This baby girl from Norway, Nikolina ? 
Slowly she 's learning Enghsh words, to try 
And thank you if her flowers you come to buy. 



SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 173 

LITTLE GUSTAVA 

CELIA THAXTER 

Little Gustava sits in the sun, 
Safe in the porch, and the little drops run 
From the icicles under the eaves so fast, 
For the bright spring sun shines warm at last, 
And glad is little Gustava. 

She wears a quaint little scarlet cap, 
And a little green bowl she holds in her lap, 
Filled with bread and milk to the brim. 
And a wreath of marigolds round the rim : 
" Ha, ha ! " laughs little Gustava. 

Up comes her little gray, coaxing cat. 

With her little pink nose, and she mews, " What 's 

that?" 
Gustava feeds her, — she begs for more ; 
And a little brown hen walks in at the door ; 
" Good-day ! " cries little Gustava. 

She scatters crumbs for the little brown hen. 
There comes a rush and a flutter, and then 
Down fly her little white doves so sweet, 
With their snowy wings and their crimson feet : 
" Welcome ! " cries little Gustava. 



174 SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

So dainty and eager they pick up the crumbs ! 
But who is this through the doorway comes ? 
Little Scotch terrier, little dog Rags, 
Looks in her face, and his funny tail wags : 
" Ha, ha ! " laughs httle Gustava. 

" You want some breakfast, too ? " and down 
She sets her bowl on the brick floor brown ; 
And little dog Rags drinks up her milk, 
While she strokes his shaggy locks, like silk : 
" Dear Rags ! " says little Gustava. 

Waiting without stood sparrow and crow. 
Cooling their feet in the melting snow : 
" Won't you come in, good folk ? " she cried. 
But they were too bashful, and stayed outside. 
Though " Pray come in ! " cried Gustava. 

So the last she threw them, and knelt on the mat 
With doves and biddy and dog and cat. 
And her mother came to the open house-door : 
" Dear little daughter, I bring you some more. 
My merry little Gustava ! " 

Kitty and terrier, biddy and doves. 
All things harmless Gustava loves. 
The shy, kind creatures 't is joy to feed. 
And oh, her breakfast is sweet indeed 
To happy little Gustava ! 



SECOND YEAR -LONGER POEMS 175 

SUMMER WOODS 

MARY HOWITT 

Come ye into the summer woods ; 

There entereth no annoy ; 
All greenly wave the chestnut leaves, 

And the earth is full of joy. 

I cannot tell you half the sights 

Of beauty you may see, — 
The bursts of golden sunshine, 

And many a shady tree. 

There, lightly swung in bowery glades, 

The honeysuckles twine ; 
There blooms the rose-red campion. 

And the dark-blue columbine. 

There grows the four-leaved plant, "true-love," 

In some dusk woodland spot ; 
There grows the enchanter's night-shade. 

And the wood forget-me-not. 

And many a merry bird is there, 

Unscared by lawless men ; 
The blue-winged jay, the woodpecker, 

And the golden-crested wren. 



176 SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Come down, and ye shall see them all, 

The timid and the bold ; 
For their sweet life of pleasantness, 

It is not to be told. 

And far within that summer wood. 

Among the leaves so green. 
There flows a little gurgling brook, 

The brightest e'er was seen. 

There come the little gentle birds, 

Without a fear of ill, 
Down to the murmuring water's edge, 

And freely drink their fill. 

And dash about and splash about, 

The merry little things ; 
And look askance with bright black eyes, 

And flirt their dripping wings. 

I 've seen the freakish squirrels drop 
Down from their leafy tree. 

The little squirrels with the old, — 
Great joy it was to me ! 

And down into the running brook, 

I 've seen them nimbly go ; 
And the bright water seemed to speak 

A welcome kind and low. 



SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 177 

The nodding plants they bowed their heads 

As if in heartsome cheer : 
They spake unto these little things, 

" 'T is merry living here ! " 

Oh, how my heart ran o'er with joy ! 

I saw that all was good. 
And how we might glean up delight 

All round us, if we would ! 

And many a wood-mouse dwelleth there. 

Beneath the old wood shade, 
And all day long has work to do. 

Nor is of aught afraid. 

The green shoots grow above their heads. 

And roots so fresh and fine 
Beneath their feet; nor is there strife 

'Mong men for mine and thine. 

There is enough for every one, 

And they lovingly agree ; 
We might learn a lesson, all of us. 

Beneath the greenwood tree. 



178 SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

THE FAIRIES OF THE CALDON-LOW 

MARY HOWITT 

" And where have you been, my Mary, 
And where have you been from me ? " 

" I have been to the top of the Caldon-Low, 
The midsummer night to see ! " 

" And what did you see, my Mary, 

All up on the Caldon-Low ? " 
" I saw the blithe sunshine come down, 

And I saw the merry winds blow." 

" And what did you hear, my Mary, 

All up on the Caldon-Hill?" 
" I heard the drops of the water made. 

And the ears of the green corn fill." 

" Oh, tell me all, my Mary, — 
All, all that ever you know ; 
For you must have seen the fairies, 
Last night on the Caldon-Low." 

" Then take me on your knee, mother ; 
And listen, mother of mine : 
A hundred fairies danced last night. 
And the harpers they were nine. 



SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 179 

" And their harp strings rung so merrily 
To their dancing feet so small : 
But oh, the words of their talking 
Were merrier far than all." 

" And what were the words, my Mary, 
That then you heard them say ? " 

" I '11 tell you all, my mother ; 
But let me have my way. 

^' Some of them played with the water, 

And rolled it down the hill ; 
' And this,' they said, ' shall speedily turn 
The poor old miller's mill ; 

" ' For there has been no water 
Ever since the first of May ; 
And a busy man will the miller be 
At dawning of the day. 

" ' Oh, the miller, how he will laugh 
When he sees the mill-dam rise ! 
The jolly old miller, how he will laugh 
Till the tears fill both his eyes ! ' 

" And some they seized the Httle winds 
That sounded over the hill ; 
And each put a horn into his mouth, 
And blew both loud and shrill. 



180 SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

" ' And there/ they said, ' the merry winds go 
Away from every horn ; 
And they shall clear the mildew dark 
From the blind old widow's corn. 

" [ Oh, the poor, blind widow, 

Though she has been blind so long, 
She '11 be blithe enough when the mildew 's gone. 
And the corn stands tall and strong.' 

" And some they brought the brown lintseed, 
And flung it down from the Low; 

' And this,' they said, ' by the sunrise, 
In the weaver's croft shall grow. 

" * Oh, the poor, lame weaver. 
How he will laugh outright 
When he sees his dwindling flax field 
All full of flowers by night ! ' 

" And then outspoke a brownie, 

With a long beard on his chin : 
' I have spun up all the tow/ said he, 
' And I want some more to spin. 



a i 



I 've spun a piece of hempen cloth, 
And I want to spin another ; 

A little sheet for Mary's bed. 
And an apron for her mother/ 



SECOND YEAR — LONGER POEMS 181 

" With that I could not help but laugh. 
And I laughed out loud and free ; 
And then on the top of the Caldon-Low 
There was no one left but me. 

" And all on the top of the Caldon-Low 
The mists were cold and gray, 
And nothing I saw but the mossy stones, 
That round about me lay. 

*^ But coming down from the hill-top 
I heard afar below 
How busy the jolly miller was 

And how merry the wheel did go. 

" And I peeped into the widow's field, 

And, sure enough, were seen 

The yellow ears of mildewed corn 

All standing stout and green. 

" And down by the weaver's croft I stole, 
To see if the flax were sprung ; 
And I met the weaver at his gate, 
With the good news on his tongue. 

" Now this is all I heard, mother. 
And all that I did see ; 
So, prythee, make my bed, mother, 
For I 'm tired as I can be." 



THIRD YEAR 



PAUL KEVERE'S RIDE 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear 

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five ; 

Hardly a man is now alive 

Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend, " If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night. 
Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
Of the North Church tower as a signal light, — 
One, if by land, and two, if by sea ; 
And I on the opposite shore will be. 
Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every Middlesex village and farm. 
For the country folk to be up and to arm." 

Then he said, " Good-night ! " and with muffled oar 
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore. 
Just as the moon rose over the bay, 
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay 
The Somerset, British man-of-war ; 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 183 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 
Across the moon like a prison bar, 
And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 
By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, 
Wanders and watches with eager ears, 
Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the barrack door. 
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet. 
And the measured tread of the grenadiers. 
Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, 

By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, 

To the belfry-chamber overhead. 

And startled the pigeons from their perch 

On the sombre rafters, that round him made 

Masses and mo^ang shapes of shade, — 

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, 

To the highest window in the wall. 

Where he paused to listen and look down 

A moment on the roofs of the town. 

And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead. 
In their night-encampment on the hill. 
Wrapped in silence so deep and still 
That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread. 
The watchful night- wind, as it went 
Creeping along from tent to tent. 



184 THIRD YEAR— LONGER POEMS 

And seeming to whisper, " All is well ! " 

A moment only he feels the spell 

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread 

Of the lonely belfry and the dead ; 

For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 

On a shadowy something far away. 

Where the river widens to meet the bay, — 

A line of black that bends and floats 

On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride. 
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride 
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 
Now he patted his horse's side. 
Now gazed at the landscape far and near. 
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth. 
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth ; 
But mostly he watched with eager search 
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church, 
As it rose above the graves on the hill. 
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. 
And lo ! as he looks, on the belfry's height 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light ! 
He springs to his saddle, the bridle he turns, 
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the belfry burns ! 

A hurry of hoofs in a village street, 
A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet : 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 185 

That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the 

The fate of a nation was riding that night ; 

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 

Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep, 
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, 
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides ; 
And under the alders that skirt its edge, 
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. 

It was twelve by the village clock. 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 

He heard the crowing of the cock, 

And the barking of the farmer's dog. 

And felt the damp of the river fog, 

That rises after the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock. 

When he galloped into Lexington. 

He saw the gilded weather-cock 

Swim in the moonlight as he passed. 

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare. 

Gaze at him with a spectral glare, 

As if they already stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock. 

When he came to the bridsre in Concord town. 



186 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

He heard the bleating of the flock, 
And the twitter of birds among the trees, 
And felt the breath of the morning breeze 
Blowing over the meadows brown. 
And one was safe and asleep in his bed 
Who at the bridge would be first to fall, 
Who that day would be lying dead. 
Pierced by a British musket-ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read, 
How the British Regulars fired and fled, — 
How the farmers gave them ball for ball. 
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, 
Chasing the red-coats down the lane. 
Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road, 
And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Revere ; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 

To every Middlesex village and farm, — 

A cry of defiance and not of fear, 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 

And a word that shall echo f orevermore ! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 

Through all our history, to the last. 

In the hour of darkness and peril and need. 

The people will waken and listen to hear 

The hurrying hoof -beats of that steed, 

And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 187 

THE BELL OF ATRI 

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

At Atri in Abruzzo, a small town 

Of ancient Roman date, but scant renown, 

One of those little places that have run 

Half up the hill, beneath a blazing sun. 

And then sat down to rest, as if to say, 

" I climb no farther upward, come what may," — 

The Re Giovanni, now unknown to fame. 

So many monarchs since have borne the name, 

Had a great bell hung in the market-place 

Beneath a roof, projecting some small space. 

By way of shelter from the sun and rain. 

Then rode he through the streets with all his train, 

And, with the blast of trumpets loud and long. 

Made proclamation, that whenever wrong 

Was done to any man, he should but ring 

The great bell in the square, and he, the King, 

Would cause the Syndic to decide thereon. 

Such was the proclamation of King John. 

How swift the happy days in Atri sped. 

What wrongs were righted, need not here be said. 

Suface it that, as all things must decay. 

The hempen rope at length was worn away. 

Unravelled at the end, and, strand by strand. 

Loosened and wasted in the ringer's hand. 



188 THIRD YEAR— LONGER POEMS 

Till one, who noted this in passing by. 
Mended the rope with braids of briony, 
So that the leaves and tendrils of the vine 
Hung like a votive garland at a shrine. 

By chance it happened that in Atri dwelt 
A knight, with spur on heel and sword in belt, 
Who loved to hunt the wild-boar in the woods, 
Who loved his falcons with their crimson hoods. 
Who loved his hounds and horses, and all sports 
And prodigalities of camps and courts ; — 
Loved, or had loved them ; for at last, grown old. 
His only passion was the love of gold. 

He sold his horses, sold his hawks and hounds, 
Eented his vineyards and his garden-grounds. 
Kept but one steed, his favorite steed of all, 
To starve and shiver in a naked stall. 
And day by day sat brooding in his chair. 
Devising plans how best to hoard and spare. 

At length he said : " What is the use or need 
To keep at my own cost this lazy steed. 
Eating his head off in my stables here. 
When rents are low and provender is dear ? 
Let him go feed upon the public ways ; 
I want him only for the holidays." 
So the old steed was turned into the heat 
Of the long, lonely, silent, shadeless street ; 
And wandered in suburban lanes forlorn. 
Barked at by dogs, and torn by brier and thorn. 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 189 

One afternoon, as in that sultry clime 

It is the custom in the summer time, 

With bolted doors and window-shutters closed, 

The inhabitants of Atri slept or dozed ; 

When suddenly upon their senses fell 

The loud alarum of the accusing bell ! 

The Syndic started from his deep repose, 

Turned on his couch, and listened, and then rose 

And donned his robes, and with reluctant pace 

Went panting forth into the market-place. 

Where the great bell upon its cross-beam swung 

Reiterating with persistent tongue, 

In half -articulate jargon, the old song : 

" Some one hath done a wrong, hath done a wrong ! " 

But ere he reached the belfry's light arcade 
He saw, or thought he saw, beneath its shade, 
No shape of human form of woman born. 
But a poor steed dejected and forlorn. 
Who with uplifted head and eager eye 
Was tugging at the vines of briony. 
"Domeneddio ! " cried the Syndic straight, 
" This is the Knis^ht of Atri's steed of state ! 
He calls for justice, being sore distressed. 
And pleads his cause as loudly as the best.'* 

Meanwhile from street and lane a noisy crowd 
Had rolled together like a summer cloud. 
And told the story of the wretched beast 
In five-and-twenty different ways at least, 



190 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

With much gesticulation and appeal 

To heathen gods, in their excessive zeal. 

The Knight was called and questioned ; in reply 

Did not confess the fact, did not deny ; 

Treated the matter as a pleasant jest, 

And set at naught the Syndic and the rest. 

Maintaining, in an angry undertone, 

That he should do what pleased him with his own. 

And thereupon the Syndic gravely read 

The proclamation of the King ; then said : 

" Pride goeth forth on horseback grand and gay. 

But Cometh back on foot, and begs its way ; 

Fame is the fragrance of heroic deeds. 

Of flowers of chivalry and not of weeds ! 

These are familiar proverbs ; but I fear 

They never yet have reached your knightly ear. 

What fair renown, what honor, what repute 

Can come to you from starving this poor brute ? 

He who serves well and speaks not, merits more 

Than they who clamor loudest at the door. 

Therefore the law decrees that as this steed 

Served you in youth, henceforth you shall take heed 

To comfort his old age, and to provide 

Shelter in stall, and food and field beside." 

The Knight withdrew abashed ; the people all 
Led home the steed in triumph to his stall. 
The King heard and approved, and laughed in glee, 
And cried aloud : " Right well it pleaseth me i 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 191 

Church-bells at best but ring us to the door ; 
But go not in to mass ; my bell doth more : 
It Cometh into court and pleads the cause 
Of creatures dumb and unknown to the laws ; 
And this shall make, in every Christian clime, 
The Bell of Atri famous for all time." 



A CHRISTMAS CAROL 

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL 

" What means this glory round our feet," 

The Magi mused, " more bright than morn ? " 
And voices chanted clear and sweet, 

" To-day the Prince of Peace was born." 

" What means that star," the Shepherds said, 
" That brightens through the rocky glen ? " 
And angels answering overhead. 

Sang, " Peace on earth, good will to men." 

All round about our feet shall shine 
A light like that the wise men saw ; 

If we our willing hearts incline 

To that sweet Life which is the Law. 

So shall we learn to understand 

The simple faith of shepherds then. 

And, clasping kindly hand in hand. 

Sing, " Peace on earth, good will to men." 



192 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

And they who do their souls no wrong, 
But keep at eve the faith of morn, 

Shall daily hear the angel-song 

" To-day the Prince of Peace is born." 

LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM 

PHILLIPS BROOKS 

little town of Bethlehem, 

How still we see thee lie ! 
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep 

The silent stars go by ; 
Yet in thy dark streets shineth 

The everlasting Light ; 
The hopes and fears of all the years 

Are met in thee to-night. 

For Christ is born of Mary, 

And, gathered all above, 
While mortals sleep, the angels keep 

Their watch of wondering love. 
morning stars, together 

Proclaim the holy birth ! 
And praises sing to God the King, 

And peace to men on earth. 

How silently, how silently, 
The wondrous gift is given ! 

So God imparts to human hearts 
The blessings of His heaven. 



THIRD YEAR— LONGER POEMS 193 

No ear may hear His coming, 

But in this world of sin, 
Where meek souls will receive Him still. 

The dear Christ enters in. 

holy Child of Bethlehem 1 

Descend to us, we pray ; 
Cast out our sin, and enter in, 

Be born in us to-day. 
We hear the Christmas angels 

The great glad tidings tell ; 
Oh, come to us, abide with us, 

Our Lord Emmanuel ! 

ROBERT OF LINCOLN 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 

Merrily swinging on brier and weed. 

Near to the nest of his little dame. 
Over the mountain-side or mead, 

Robert of Lincoln is telling his name : 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-Hnk, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Snug and safe is that nest of ours. 
Hidden among the summer flowers, 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln is gayly drest. 

Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat ; 



194 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

White are his shoulders, and white his crest. 
Hear him call his merry Dote : 

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 

Spink, spank, spink ; 
Look, what a nice, new coat is mine, 
Sure there was never a bird so fine. 

Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife, 

Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings, 
Passing at home a patient life. 

Broods in the grass while her husband sings 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Brood, kind creature ; you need not fear 
Thieves and robbers while I am here. 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Modest and shy as a nun is she ; 

One weak chirp is her only note. 
Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he, 
Pouring boasts from his little throat : 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Never was I afraid of man. 
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can ! 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Six white eggs on a bed of hay. 
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight ! 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 195 

There as the mother sits all day, 

Robert is singing with all his might : 

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 

Spink, spank, spink; 
Nice good wife, that never goes out. 
Keeping house while I frolic about, 

Chee, chee, chee. 

Soon as the little ones chip the shell, 

Six wide mouths are open for food ; 
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well. 

Gathering seeds for the hungry brood. 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, 
Spink, spank, spink; 
This new life is likely to be 
Hard for a gay young fellow like me, 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Robert of Lincoln at length is made 

Sober with work, and silent with care ; 
Off is his holiday garment laid. 
Half forgotten that merry air : 
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-Hnk, 
Spink, spank, spink ; 
Nobody knows but my mate and I, 
Where our nest and our nestlings lie, 
Chee, chee, chee. 

Summer wanes ; the children are grown ; 
Fun and frolic no more he knows ; 



196 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Robert of Lincoln 's a humdrum crone ; 
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes : 

Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link ; 

Spink, spank, spink ; 
When you can pipe that merry old strain, 
Robert of Lincoln, come back again, 

Chee, chee, chee. 

THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE-TREE 

WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT 

Come, let us plant the apple-tree. 
Cleave the tough greensward with the spade ; 
Wide let its hollow bed be made ; 
There gently lay the roots, and there 
Sift the dark mould with kindly care, 

And press it o'er them tenderly. 
As, round the sleeping infant's feet 
We softly fold the cradle sheet ; 

So plant we the apple-tree. 

What plant we in this apple-tree ? 
Buds, which the breath of summer days 
Shall lengthen into leafy sprays ; 
Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast, 
Shall haunt and sing and hide her nest ; 

We plant, upon the sunny lea, 
A shadow for the noontide hour, 
A shelter from the summer shower. 

When we plant the apple-tree. 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 197 

What plant we in this apple-tree ? 
Sweets for a hundred flowery springs 
To load the May-wind's restless wings, 
When, from the orchard row, he pours 
Its fragrance through our open doors ; 

A world of blossoms for the bee. 
Flowers for the sick girFs silent room, 
For the glad infant sprigs of bloom. 

We plant with the apple-tree. 

What plant we in this apple-tree ? 
Fruits that shall swell in sunny June, 
And redden in the August noon. 
And drop, when gentle airs come by. 
That fan the blue September sky. 

While children come, with cries of glee, 
And seek them where the fragrant grass 
Betrays their bed to those who pass. 

At the foot of the apple-tree. 

And when, above this apple-tree. 
The winter stars are quivering bright. 
And winds go howling through the night. 
Girls, whose young eyes overflow with mirth. 
Shall peel its fruit by cottage-hearth. 

And guests in prouder homes shall see, 
Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine 
And golden orange of the line. 

The fruit of the apple-tree. 



198 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

The fruitage of this apple-tree 
Winds, and our flag of stripe and star 
Shall bear to coasts that He afar, 
Where men shall wonder at the view, 
And ask in what fair groves they grew ; 

And sojourners beyond the sea 
Shall think of childhood's careless day 
And long, long hours of summer play, 

In the shade of the apple-tree. 

Each year shall give this apple-tree 
A broader flush of roseate bloom, 
A deeper maze of verdurous gloom, 
And loosen, when the frost-clouds lower. 
The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower. 

The years shall come and pass, but we 
Shall hear no longer, where we lie, 
The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh, 

In the boughs of the apple-tree. 

And time shall waste this apple-tree. 
Oh, when its aged branches throw 
Thin shadows on the ground below, 
Shall fraud and force and iron will 
Oppress the weak and helpless still ? 

What shall the tasks of mercy be, 
Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears, 
Of those who live when length of years 

Is wasting this apple-tree ? 



TliiRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 199 

" Who planted this old apple-tree ? " 
The children of that distant day 
Thus to some aged man shall say ; 
And, gazing on its mossy stem, 
The gray-haired man shall answer them : 

" A poet of the land was he, 
Born in the rude but good old times ; 
'T is said he made some quaint old rhymes 

On planting the apple-tree." 

IN THE HAUNTS OF BASS AND BREAM 

MAURICE THOMPSON 

Dreams come true, and everything 
Is fresh and lusty in the spring. 

In groves that smell like ambergris. 
Wind- songs, bird-songs, never cease. 

Go with me down by the stream, 
Haunt of bass and purple bream ; 

Feel the pleasure, keen and sweet. 
When the cool waves lap your feet ; 

Catch the breath of moss and mould, 
Hear the grosbeak's whistle bold ; 

See the heron all alone 
Midstream on a slippery stone, 



200 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Or, on some decaying log, 
Spearing snail or water-frog. 

See the shoals of sun-perch shine 
Among the pebbles smooth and fine, 

Whilst the sprawling turtles swim 
In the eddies cool and dim ! 

The busy nuthatch climbs his tree. 
Around the great bole spirally. 

Peeping into wrinkles gray. 
Under ruffled lichens gay. 

Lazily piping one sharp note 
From his silver mailed throat ; 

And down the wind the catbird's song 
A slender medley trails along. 

Here a grackle chirping low. 
There a crested vireo ; 

Deep in tangled underbrush 
Flits the shadowy hermit-thrush ; 

Coos the dove, the robin trills. 
The crow caws from the airy hills ; 



THIRD YEAR— LONGER POEMS 201 

Purple finch and pewee gray, 
Bluebird, swallow, oriole gay, — 

Every tongue of Nature sings ; 
The air is palpitant with wings. 

Halcyon prophecies come to pass 
In the haunts of bream and bass. 

Bubble, bubble, flows the stream. 
Like an old tune through a dream. 

Halcyon laughs and cuckoo cries ; 
Through its leaves the plane-tree sighs. 

Bubble, bubble flows the stream. 
Here a glow and there a gleam ; 

Coolness all about me creeping. 
Fragrance all my senses steeping, — 

Spicewood, sweet-gum, sassafras, 
Calamus and water-grass. 

Giving up their pungent smells. 
Drawn from Nature's secret wells ; 

On the cool breath of the morn. 
Perfume of the cock-spur thorn, 



202 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Green spathes of the dragon-root, 
Indian turnip's tender shoot, 

Dogwood, red-bud, elder, ash, 
Snowy gleam and purple flash, 

Hillside thickets, densely green. 
That the partridge revels in ! 

Out of a giant tulip-tree 

A great gay blossom falls on me ; 

Old gold and fire its petals are. 
It flashes like a falling star. 

A big blue heron flying by 
Looks at me with a greedy eye. 

I see a striped squirrel shoot 
Into a hollow maple root ; 

A bumblebee with mail all rust, 

And thighs puffed out with anther-dust. 

Clasps a shrinking bloom about. 
And draws her amber sweetness out. 

Bubble, bubble, flows the stream. 
Like low music through a dream. 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 203 



TRUE LOVE REQUITED; OR, THE BAI- 
LIFF'S DAUGHTER OF ISLINGTON 

AN OLD ENGLISH BALLAD 

There was a youth, and a well belovd youth, 

And he was an esquire's son, 
He loved the bailiff's daughter dear, 

That lived in Islington. 

She was coy, and she would not believe 

That he did love her so. 
No, nor at any time she would 

Any countenance to him show. 

But when his friends did understand 

His fond and foolish mind, 
They sent him up to fair London, 

An apprentice for to bind. 

And when he had been seven long years, 
And his love he had not seen, 
" Many a tear have I shed for her sake 
When she Httle thought of me." 

All the maids of Islington 

Went forth to sport and play ; 
All but the bailiff's daughter dear ; 

She secretly stole away. 



204 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

She put off her gown of gray, 
And put on her puggish attire ; 

She 's up to fair London gone. 
Her true-love to require. 

As she went along the road, 

The weather being hot and dry, 

There was she aware of her true-love, 
At length came riding by. 

She stept to him, as red as any rose. 
And took him by the bridle-ring : 
" I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny, 
To ease my weary limb." 

^^ I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me 
Where that thou wast born ? " 

" At Islington, kind sir," said she, 

" Where I have had many a scorn." 

" I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me 
Whether thou dost know 
The bailiff's daughter of Islington ? " 
" She 's dead, sir, long ago." 

" Then will I sell my goodly steed. 
My saddle and my bow; 
I will into some far countrey. 
Where no man doth me know." 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 205 

" stay, stay, thou goodly youth ! 
She 's ahve, she is not dead ; 
Here she standeth by thy side, 
And is ready to be thy bride." 

" farewel grief, and welcome joy, 
Ten thousand times and more ! 
For now I have seen my own true-love. 

That I thought I should have seen no more." 



YOUNG LOCHINVAR 

From Marmion 
SIR WALTER SCOTT 

Oh ! young Lochinvar is come out of the west. 
Through all the wide border his steed was the best ; 
And save his good broadsword, he weapons had 

none ; 
He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. 
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, ^ 
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. 

He stay'd not for brake and he stopped not for 

stone. 
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none ; 
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate. 
The bride had consented, the gallant came late : 
For a laggard in love and a dastard in war 
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. 



206 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

So boldly he entered the Netherby Hall, 

Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and 

all: 
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his 

sword, — 
For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word, — 
" Oh ! come ye in peace here, or come ye in war. 
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochin- 

var?" — 

" I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied ; 
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — 
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine. 
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. 
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far. 
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochin- 
var." 

The bride kissed the goblet ; the knight took it up. 
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup. 
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh. 
With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. 
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, — 
" Now tread we a measure ! " said young Lochinvar. 

So stately his form, and so lovely her face. 
That never a hall such a galliard did grace ; 
While her mother did fret and her father did fume, 
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and 
plume ; 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 207 

And the bride-maidens whispered, " 'T were better 

by far 
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochin- 

var." 

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 
When they reached the hall door, and the charger 

stood near ; 
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung. 
So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! 
" She is won ! we are gone, over bank, bush, and 

scaur ; 
They '11 have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young 

Lochinvar. 

There was mounting 'mong Graemes of the Netherby 

clan ; 
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and 

they ran : 
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee, 
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. 
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war, 
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar ? 

CASABIANCA 

FELICIA D. HEMANS 

The boy stood on the burning deck, 
Whence all but him had fled ; 

The flame that lit the battle's wreck 
Shone round him o'er the dead. 



208 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Yet beautiful and bright he stood, 

As born to rule the storm ; 
A creature of heroic blood, 

A proud, though childlike form. 

The flames rolFd on — he would not go 

Without his father's word ; 
That father, faint in death below, 

His voice no longer heard. 

He called aloud — " Say, father, say 

If yet my task is done ? " 
He knew not that the chieftain lay 

Unconscious of his son. 

" Speak, father ! " once again he cried, 
" If I may yet be gone ! " 
And but the boomiog shots replied. 
And fast the flames roll'd on. 

Upon his brow he felt their breath, 

And in his waving hair ; 
And looked from that lone post of death, 

In still, yet brave despair. 

And shouted but once more aloud, 

" My father ! Must I stay ? " 
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud. 

The wreathing fires made way. 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 209 

They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, 

They caught the flag on high, 
And streamed above the gallant child. 

Like banners in the sky. 

There came a burst of thunder sound — 

The boy — oh ! where was he ? 
Ask of the winds that far around 

With fragments strewed the sea ! 

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair. 
That well had borne their part — 

But the noblest thing that perished there 
Was that young faithful heart. 

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF 
JOHN GILPIN; 

SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND 
CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN. 

WILLIAM COWPER 

John Gilpin was a citizen 

Of credit and renown, 
A train band captain eke was he 

Of famous London town. 

John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, 
" Though married we have been 

These twice ten tedious years, yet we 
No holiday have seen. 



210 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

" To-morrow is our wedding day, 
And we will then repair 
Unto the Bell at Edmonton 
All in a chaise and pair. 

" My sister and my sister's child, 
Myself, and children three, 
Will fill the chaise ; so you must ride 
On horseback after we." 

He soon replied, " I do admire 

Of womankind but one, 
And you are she, my dearest dear. 

Therefore it shall be done. 

" I am a linen draper bold. 

As all the world doth know, 
And my good friend the calender. 
Will lend his horse to go." 

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, " That 's well said ; 

And for that wine is dear, 
We will be furnished with our own, 

Which is both bright and clear." 

John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife ; 

O'erjoyed was he to find. 
That, though on pleasure she was bent. 

She had a frugal mind. 



THIRD YEAR ~ LONGER POEMS 211 

The morning came, the chaise was brought, 

But yet was not allow' d 
To drive up to the door, lest all 

Should say that she was proud. 

So three doors off the chaise was stayed, 

Where they did all get in ; 
Six precious souls, and all agog 

To dash through thick and thin. 

Smack went the whip, round went the wheels. 

Were never folk so glad. 
The stones did rattle underneath 

As if Cheapside were mad. 

John Gilpin at his horse's side, 

Seized fast the flowing mane. 
And up he got, in haste to ride. 

But soon came down again ; 

For saddle tree scarce reach'd had he, 

His journey to begin, 
When, turning round his head, he saw 

Three customers come in. 

So down he came ; for loss of time, 

Although it grieved him sore. 
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 

Would trouble him much more. 



212 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

'T was long before the customers 

Were suited to their mind, 
When Betty screaming came down stairs, 

" The wine is left behind ! " 

" Good lack ! " quoth he — " yet bring it me, 
My leathern belt likewise, 
In which I bear my trusty sword. 
When I do exercise." 

Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul !) 
Had two stone bottles found. 

To hold the liquor that she loved, 
And keep it safe and sound. 

Each bottle had a curling ear. 
Through which the belt he drew, 

And hung a bottle on each side. 
To make his balance true. 

Then over all, that he might be 

Equipped from top to toe, 
His long red cloak, well brush'd and neat, 

He manfully did throw. 

Now see him mounted once again 

Upon his nimble steed, 
Full slowly pacing o'er the stones, 

With caution and good heed. 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 213 

But finding soon a smoother road 

Beneath his well shod feet, 
The snorting heast began to trot, 

Which gall'd him in his seat. 

« So, fair and softly," John he cried. 
But John he cried in vain ; 
The trot became a gallop soon, 
In spite of curb and rein. 

So, stooping down, as needs he must, 

Who cannot sit upright. 
He grasp'd the mane with both his hands, 

And eke with all his might. 

His horse, who never in that sort 

Had handled been before, 
What thing upon his back had got 

Did wonder more and more. 

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought ; 

Away went hat and wig ; 
He little dreamt, when he set out, 

Of running such a rig. 

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, 

Like streamer long and gay, 
Till, loop and button failmg both, 

At last it flew away. 



214 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Then might all people well discern 

The bottles he had slung ; 
A bottle swinging at each side, 

As hath been said or sung. 

The dogs did bart, the children scream' d, 

Up flew the windows all ; 
And every soul cried out, " Well done ! " 

As loud as he could bawl. 

Away went Gilpin — who but he ? 

His fame soon spread around, 

" He carries weight ! He rides a race ! 

'T is for a thousand pound ! " 

And still, as fast as he drew near, 

'T was wonderful to view 
How in a trice the turnpike men 

Their gates wide open threw. 

And now, as he went bowing down, 

His reeking head full low. 
The bottles twain behind his back 

Were shattered at a blow. 

Down ran the wine into the road. 

Most piteous to be seen, 
Which made his horse's flanks to smoke 

As they had basted been. 



THIRD YEAR— LONGER POEMS 215 

But still he seem'd to carry weight, 

With leathern girdle braced ; 
For all might see the bottle necks 

Still dangling at his waist. 

Thus all through merry Islington 

These gambols he did play, 
Until he came unto the Wash 

Of Edmonton so gay ; 

And there he threw the wash about 

On both sides of the way. 
Just like unto a trundling mop, 

Or a wild goose at play. 

At Edmonton his loving wife 

From the balcony spied 
Her tender husband, wondering much 

To see how he did ride. 

" Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! — Here 's the house," 

They all aloud did cry ; 
" The dinner waits, and we are tired ; " 

Said Gilpin— "So am I!" 

But yet his horse was not a whit 

Inclin'd to tarry there ; 
For why ? — his owner had a house 

Full ten miles off, at Ware. 



216 THIRD YEAR— LONGER POEMS 

So like an arrow swift he flew, 

Shot by an archer strong ; 
So did he fly — which brings me to 

The middle of my song. 

Away went Gilpin, out of breath, 

And sore against his will. 
Till, at his friend the calender's. 

His horse at last stood still. 

The calender, amazed to see 

His neighbor in such trim. 
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate. 

And thus accosted him : 

"What news? what news? your tidings tell; 
Tell me you must and shall — 
Say, why bare headed you are come. 
Or why you come at all ? " 

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 

And loved a timely joke ; 
And thus unto the calender. 

In merry guise, he spoke : 

" I came because your horse would come ; 
And, if I well forebode. 
My hat and wig will soon be here, 
They are upon the road." 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 217 

The calender, right glad to find 

His friend in merry pin, 
Return' d him not a single word, 

But to the house went in ; 

Whence straight he came, with hat and wig, 

A wig that flow'd behind ; 
A hat not much the worse for wear, 

Each comely in its kind. 

He held them up, and in his turn 
Thus show'd his ready wit ; 
" My head is twice as big as yours, 
They therefore needs must fit." 

" But let me scrape the dust away, 
That hangs upon your face ; 
And stop and eat, for well you may 
Be in a hungry case." 

Said John, " It is my wedding-day, 

And all the world would stare. 
If wife should dine at Edmonton, 

And I should dine at Ware." 

So, turning to his horse, he said, 

" I am in haste to dine ; 
'T was for your pleasure you came here, 

You shall go back for mine." 



218 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Ah luckless speech, and bootless boast ! 

For which he paid full dear ; 
For, while he spake, a braying ass 

Did sing most loud and clear ; 

Whereat his horse did snort, as he 

Had heard a lion roar, 
And gallopp'd off with all his might, 

As he had done before. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
Went Gilpin's hat and wig ; 

He lost them sooner than at first. 
For why ? — they were too big. 

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 
Her husband posting down 

Into the country far away, 
She puird out half-a-crown ; 

And thus unto the youth she said, 
That drove them to the Bell, 
*^ This shall be yours, when you bring back 
My husband safe and well." 

The youth did ride, and soon did meet 

John coming back amain ; 
Whom in a trice he tried to stop, 

By catching at his rein ; 



THIRD YEAR— LONGER POEMS 219 

But not performing what he meant, 

And gladly would have done. 
The frighted steed he frighted more, 

And made him faster run. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 

Went postboy at his heels, 
The postboy's horse right glad to miss 

The rumbling of the wheels. 

Six gentlemen upon the road 

Thus seeing Gilpin fly, 
With postboy scampering in the rear. 

They raised the hue and cry : — 

*^ Stop thief ! stop thief ! — a highwayman ! " 
Not one of them was mute ; 
And all and each that passed that way, 
Did join in the pursuit. 

And now the turnpike gates again 

Flew open in short space : 
The toll-men thinking, as before, 

That Gilpin rode a race. 

And so he did, and won it too. 

For he got first to town ; 
Nor stopped till where he had got up 

He did again get down. 



220 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Now let us sing, " Long live the king, 
And Gilpin, long live he ; " 

And, when he next doth ride abroad. 
May I be there to see ! 



THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN 

A CHILD'S STORY 

ROBERT BROWNING 
I 

Hamelin Town 's in Brunswick, 
By famous Hanover city ; 

The river Weser, deep and wide. 

Washes its wall on the southern side ; 

A pleasanter spot you never spied ; 
But, when begins my ditty. 

Almost five hundred years ago. 

To see the townsfolk suffer so 
From vermin, was a pity. 

II 

Rats! 
They fought the dogs and killed the cats, 

And bit the babies in the cradles, 
'And ate the cheeses out of the vats, 

And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, 
Split open the kegs of salted sprats. 
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 221 

And even spoiled the women's chats 

By drowning their speaking 

With shrieking and squeaking 
In fifty different sharps and flats. 

Ill 

At last the people in a body 

To the Town Hall came flocking : 
" 'T is clear," cried they, " our Mayor 's a noddy ; 
And as for our Corporation — shocking 
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 
For dolts that can't or won't determine 
What 's best to rid us of our vermin ! 
You hope because you 're old and obese, 
To find in the furry civic robe ease ? 
Bouse up, sirs ! Give your brains a racking 
To find the remedy we 're lacking, 
Or, sure as fate, we 'H send you packing ! " 
At this the Mayor and Corporation 
Quaked with a mighty consternation. 

IV 

An hour they sat in council ; 

At length the Mayor broke silence : 
" For a guilder I 'd my ermine gown sell, 

I wish I were a mile hence ! 
It 's easy to bid one rack one's brain — 
I 'm sure my poor head aches again, 
I 've scratched it so, and all in vain. 



222 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap ! " 

Just as he said this, what should hap 

At the chamber-door but a gentle tap ? 

"Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?" 

(With the Corporation as he sat, 

Looking little though wondrous fat ; 

Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister 

Than a too-long-opened oyster, 

Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous 

For a plate of turtle green and glutinous) 

" Only a scraping of shoes on the mat ? 

Anything like the sound of a rat 

Makes my heart go pit-a-pat ! " 



" Come in ! " — the Mayor cried, looking bigger : 

And in did come the strangest figure ! 

His queer long coat from heel to head 

Was half of yellow and half of red. 

And he himself was tall and thin. 

With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, 

And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, 

No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin. 

But lips where smiles went out and in ; 

There was no guessing his kith and kin : 

And nobody could enough admire 

The tall man and his quaint attire. 

Quoth one : " It 's as my great-grandsire, 

Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone. 

Had walked this way from his painted tomb-stone ! " 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 223 

VI 

He advanced to the council-table : 

And, " Please your honors/' said he, " I 'm able, 

By means of a secret charm, to draw 

All creatures living beneath the sun. 

That creep or swim or fly or run. 

After me so as you never saw ! 

And I chiefly use my charm 

On creatures that do people harm. 

The mole and toad and newt and viper ; 

And people call me the Pied Piper." 

(And here they noticed round his neck 

A scarf of red and yellow stripe. 

To match with his coat of the self -same cheque ; 

And at the scarf's end hung a pipe ; 

And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying 

As if impatient to be playing 

Upon this pipe, as low it dangled 

Over his vesture so old-fangled.) 
^' Yet," said he, " poor piper as I am, 

In Tartary I freed the Cham, 

Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats ; 

I eased in Asia the Nizam 

Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats : 

And as for what your brain bewilders. 

If I can rid your town of rats 

Will you give me a thousand guilders ? " 
" One ? fifty thousand ! " — was the exclamation 

Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. 



224 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

VII 

Into the street the Piper stept, 

Smihng first a httle smile, 
As if he knew what magic slept 

In his quiet pipe the while ; 
Then, like a musical adept. 
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, 
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, 
Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled ; 
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, 
You heard as if an army muttered ; 
And the muttering grew to a grumbling ; 
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling ; 
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. 
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, 
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, 
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, 

Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins. 
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, 
Families by tens and dozens. 
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — 
Followed the Piper for their lives. 
From street to street he piped advancing, 
And step for step they followed dancing, 
Until they came to the river Weser, 
Wherein all plunged and perished ! 
— Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar, 
Swam across and lived to carry 
(As he, the manuscript he cherished) 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 225 

To Rat-land home his commentary : 

Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the 

pipe, 
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, 
And putting apples, wondrous ripe. 
Into a cider-press's gripe : 
And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards. 
And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards. 
And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, 
And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks : 
And it seemed as if a voice 
(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 
Is breathed) called out, ' Oh rats, rejoice ! 
The world is grown to one vast drysaltery ! 
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon ! 

Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon ! ' 
And just as the bulky sugar-puncheon. 
All ready staved, like a great sun shone 
Glorious scarce an inch before me. 
Just as methought it said, ' Come, bore me ! ' 
— I found the Weser rolling o'er me." 

VIII 

You should have heard the Hamelin people 
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. 
" Go," cried the Mayor, " and get long poles. 
Poke out the nests and block up the holes ! 
Consult with carpenters and builders, 
And leave in our town not even a trace 
Of the rats I " — when suddenly, up the face 



226 THIRD YEAR — L0NGP:R POEMS 

Of the Piper perked in the market-place, 
With a, " First, if you please my thousand guil- 
ders ! " 

IX 

A thousand guilders ! The Mayor looked blue ; 

So did the Corporation too. 

For council dinners made rare havoc 

With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock ; 

And half the money would replenish 

Their cellar's biggest butt with Khenish. 

To pay this sum to a wandering fellow 

With a gypsy coat of red and yellow ! 

" Beside," quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink, 

" Our business was done at the river's brink ; 

We saw with our eyes the vermin sink. 

And what 's dead can't come to life, I think. 

So, friend, we 're not the folks to shrink 

From the duty of giving you something for drink. 

And a matter of money to put in your poke ; 

But as for the guilders, what we spoke 

Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. 

Beside, our losses have made us thrifty. 

A thousand guilders ! Come, take fifty ! " 

X 

The Piper's face fell, and he cried, 
" No trifling ! I can't wait, beside ! 
I 've promised to visit by dinner time 
Bagdat, and accept the prime 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 227 

Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he 's rich in, 
For having left, in the CaHph's kitchen, 
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor : 
With him I proved no bargain-driver. 
With you, don't think I '11 bate a stiver ! 
And folks who put me in a passion 
May find me pipe after another fashion." 

XI 
" How? " cried the Mayor, " d' ye think I brook 
Being worse treated than a Cook ? 
Insulted by a lazy ribald 
With idle pipe and vesture piebald ? 
You threaten us, fellow ? Do your worst, 
Blow your pipe there till you burst ! " 

XII 

Once more he stept into the street, 

And to his lips again 
Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane ; 

And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 

Never gave the enraptured air) 
There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling 
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling ; 
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, 
Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering. 
And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scat- 
tering, 
Out came the children running. 



228 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

All the little boys and girls, 

With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, 

And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, 

Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 

The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. 

XIII 

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 
As if they were changed into blocks of wood, 
Unable to move a step, or cry 
To the children merrily skipping by, 
— Could only follow with the eye 
That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. 
But now the Mayor was on the rack. 
And the wretched Council's bosoms beat. 
As the Piper turned from the High Street 
To where the Weser rolled its waters 
Eight in the way of their sons and daughters ! 
However, he turned from South to West, 
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 
And after him the children pressed ; 
Great was the joy in every breast. 
" He never can cross that mighty top ! 
He 's forced to let the piping drop. 
And we shall see our children stop ! " 
When, lo, as they reached the mountain-side, 
A wondrous portal opened wide, 
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed ; 
And the Piper advanced and the children fol- 
lowed, 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 229 

And when all were in to the very last, 
The door in the mountain-side shut fast. 
Did I say, all ? No ! One was lame, 
And could not dance the whole of the way; 
And in after years, if you would blame 
His sadness, he was used to say, — 
" It 's dull in our town since my playmates left ! 
I can't forget that I 'm bereft 
Of all the pleasant sights they see. 
Which the Piper also promised me. 
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land. 
Joining the town and just at hand, 
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, 
And flowers put forth a fairer hue. 
And everything was strange and new ; 
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, 
And their dogs outran our fallow deer. 
And honey-bees had lost their stings, 
And horses were born with eagles' wings : 
And just as I became assured 
My lame foot would be speedily cured, 
The music stopped and I stood still. 
And found myself outside the hill. 
Left alone against my will. 
To go now limping as before. 
And never hear of that country more ! " 

XIV 

Alas, alas for Hamelin ! 

There came into many a burgher's pate 



230 THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 

A text which says that heaven's gate 

Opes to the rich at as easy rate 
As the needle's eye takes a camel in ! 
The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, 
To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, 

Wherever it was men's lot to find him. 
Silver and gold to his heart's content. 
If he 'd only return the way he went, 

And bring the children behind him. 
But when they saw 't was a lost endeavor, 
And Piper and dancers were gone forever. 
They made a decree that lawyers never 

Should think their records dated duly 
If, after the day of the month and year, 
These words did not as well appear, 
*^ And so long after what happened here 

On the Twenty-second of July, 
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six : " 
And the better in memory to fix 
The place of the children's last retreat. 
They called it, the Pied Piper's Street — 
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor 
Was sure for the future to lose his labor. 
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 

To shock with mirth a street so solemn ; 
But opposite the place of the cavern 

They wrote the story on a column. 
And on the great church-window painted 
The same, to make the world acquainted 
How their children were stolen away. 



THIRD YEAR — LONGER POEMS 231 

And there it stands to this very day. 

And I must not omit to say 

That in Transylvania there 's a tribe 

Of alien people who ascribe 

The outlandish ways and dress 

On which their neighbors lay such stress. 

To their fathers and mothers having risen 

Out of some subterraneous prison 

Into which they were trepanned 

Long time ago in a mighty band 

Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, 

But how or why, they don't understand. 

XV 

So, Willy, let me and you be wipers 

Of scores out with all men — especially pipers ! 

And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from 

mice. 
If we 've promised them aught, let us keep our 

promise. 



HELPS FOE THE DAY'S WORK 



Every day is a fresh beginning, 
Every morn is a world made new. 

Susan Coolidge. 

Be not simply good, be good for something. 

Henry D. Thoreau. 

Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with 
thy might. 

EcCLESIASTES IX, 10. 

To look up and not down ; 
To look forward and not back ; 
To look out and not in ; 
And 

To lend a hand. 

Edward Everett Hale, 
Motto of the Lend-a-Hand Club. 

A cheerful spirit gets on quick, 
A grumbler in the mud will stick. 

If one life shine, the life next to it will catch 

the light. 

William C. Gannett. 



HELPS FOR THE DAY'S WORK 233 

Shine like the sun in every corner. 

George Herbert. 



I am content with what I have, 
Little be it, or much. 

John Buntan. 

Let us be content to work, 

To do the thing we can, and not presume 

To fret because it 's little. 

Elizabeth Barrett Browning. 

Small service is true service while it lasts. 

William Wordsworth. 

And each good thought or action moves 
The dark world nearer to the sun. 

John Greenleaf Whittier. 

They also serve who only stand and wait. 

John Milton. 

Be useful where thou livest, that they may 
Both want and wish thy pleasing presence still. 

George Herbert. 

Square thyself for use. A stone that may 
Fit in the wall is not left by the way. 

Persian Proverb. 

Work apace, apace, apace, 
Honest labor bears a lovely face. 

Thomas Dekker. 



234 HELPS FOR THE DAY'S WORK 

Habit is a cable ; we weave a thread of it every 
day, and it becomes so strong we cannot break it. 

Horace Mann. 

All that 's great and good is done 
Just by patient trying. 

Phgebe Gary. 

I intend to fight it out on this line, if it takes all 
summer. 

Ulysses S. Grant. 

Strive manfully ; habit is overcome by habit. 

Thomas X Kempis. 

It never will rain roses ; if you want more roses, 

you must plant more rose-trees. 

George Eliot. 

Every duty we omit obscures some truth we should 

have known. 

John Ruskin. 

Do the duty that lies nearest to thee. 

Goethe. 

When Duty whispers low " Thou must," 

The youth replies, " I can." 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

Attempt the end and never stand to doubt ; 
Nothing 's so hard but search will find it out. 

Robert Herrick. 



HELPS FOR THE DAY'S WORK 235 

Step by step lifts bad to good, 
Without halting, without rest, 
Lifting better up to best ; 
Planting seeds of knowledge pure. 
Through earth to ripen, through Heaven endure. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

Patience is power. With time and patience the 

mulberry leaf becomes satin. 

Eastern Proverb. 

For easy things that may be got at will 
Most sorts of men do set but little store. 

Edmund Spenser. 

He has hard work who has nothing to do. 

Speak every man truth with his neighbor. 

The Epistle to the Ephesians iv, 25. 

Dare to be true ; 

Nothing can need a lie ; 

The fault that needs one most 

Grows two thereby. 

George Herbert. 

If it is not right, do not do it ; if it is not true, 
do not say it. 

Marcus Aurelius. 

This above all — to thine own self be true ; 
And it must follow, as the night the day. 
Thou, canst not then be false to any man. 

William Shakespeare. 



236 HELPS FOR THE DAY'S WORK 

There 's nothing so kingly as kindness, 
There 's nothing so royal as truth. 

He who is honest is noble, 
Whatever his fortunes or birth. 

Alice Gary. 

Life is not so short but that there is always time 

for courtesy. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

The gentler born the maiden, the more bound to 

be sweet and serviceable. 

Alfred Tennyson. 

She doeth little kindnesses 

Which most leave undone, or despise ; 

For naught that sets one's heart at ease. 

Or giveth happiness or peace. 

Is low esteemed in her eyes. 

James Russell Lowell. 

Be ye kind, one to another, tender-hearted. 

The Epistle to the Ephesians iv, 32. 

Keep thy tongue from evil. 

Psalms xxxiv, 13. 

A soft answer turneth away wrath ; but grievous 

words stir up anger. 

Proverbs xv, 1. 

A word and a stone once let go cannot be 
recalled. 



HELPS FOR THE DAY'S WORK 237 

The secret of being lovely is being unselfish. 

John Gilbert Holland. 

They who travel with By-and-by 
Soon come to the house of Never. 

To-day, to-day, to-day. 

John Ruskin's Motto. 

He that is good at making excuses is seldom 
good for anything else. 

I would rather be right than President. 

Henry Clay. 

Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and 

inseparable. 

Daniel Webster. 

White for purity, red for valor, blue for jus- 
tice. . . . the flag of our country, to be cherished 
by all our hearts, to be upheld by all our hands. 

Charles Sumner. 



Cowards are cruel, but the brave 
Love mercy and delight to save. 



Gay. 



Abraham Lincoln's heart was as great as the 
world, but there was no room in it for the memory 
of a wrong. 



Ralph Waldo Emerson. 



INDEX OF AUTHOKS 

Aldrich, Thomas Bailey (1836- ) 

Before the Rain, 140 ; Cradle-Song, 34 ; The Winter Rohm, 

58. 
Allingham, William (1824-1889) 

The Fairies, 74 ; Robin Redbreast, 110 ; Wishing, 79. 

"Rtt^t V The 

The' Twenty-third Psalm, 116 ; Verses from St. Luke (ii. 

8-14), 60 ; Verses from The Song of Solomon, (ii. 11, 12), 8. 
Bjornson, Bjornstjerne (1832- ) 

The Tree, 52. 
Blake, William (1757-1827) 

The Shepherd, 31. 
Brooks, C. T. (1813-1883) and Dwight,J. S. (1813-1893) 

God bless our Native Land, 66. 
Brooks, Phillips (1835-1893) 

Little Town of Bethlehem, 192. 
Browning, Robert (1812-1889) 

The Pied Piper, 220 ; Pippa's Song, 9. 
Bryant, William Cullen (1794-1878) 

March, 102 ; Planting of the Apple-Tree, 196 ; Robert of 

Lincoln, 193. 
Burns, Robert (1759-1796) 

My Jean, 157. 
Carlyle, Thomas (1795-1881) 

To-day, 81. 
Gary, Alice (1820-1871) 

November, 115 ; To Mother Fairie, 14. 
Gary, Phcebe (1824-1871) 

Don't Give Up, 107. 
Child, Lydia Maria (1802-1880) 

Thanksgiving-Day, 58. 
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834) 

Answer to a Child's Question, 70 ; Praying and Lovmg, 3. 



240 INDEX OF AUTHORS 

Cone, Helen Gray (1859- ) 

The Dandelions, S6. 
CowPER, William (1731-1800) 

The Diverting History of John Gilpin, 209. 
Cunningham, Allan (1784-1842) 

Sea-Song, A, 151. 
Dickens, Charles (1812-1870) 

Christmas-Time, 62. 
Drake, Joseph Rodman (1795-1820) 

The American Flag, 147. 
Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803-1882) 

April and May, 131 ; Concord Hymn, 131 ; A Fable, 46. 
Field, Eugene (1850-1895) 

A Norse Lullaby, 63 ; Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, 164. 
Fields, James T. (1816-1881) 

Ballad of the Tempest, 156. 
FoLLEN, Eliza Lee (1787-1859) 

The Runaway Brook, 25. 
Gilder, Richard Watson (1844- ) 

Cradle-Song, 54. 
GusTAFSON, Mrs. J. B. (1841- ) 

April, 25. 
Hemans, Felicia D. (1793-1835) 

Casablanca, 207 ; Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, 145. 
Herrick, Robert (1591-1674) 

Christmas Carol, 118 ; Humility, 82 ; The Succession of the 

Four Sweet Months, 84 ; To Violets, 83. 
Hogg, James (1770-1835) 

A Boy's Song, 77. 
Holmes, Oliver Wendell (1809-1894) 

Old Ironsides, 149 ; Spring has come, l28. 
Hood, Thomas (1798-1845) 

No! 115. 
Houghton, Lord (Richard Monckton Milnes) (1809-1885) 

Lady Moon, 13. 
Howe, Julia Ward (1819- ) 

Battle-Hymn of the Republic, 148. 
HowiTT, Mart (1804-1888) 

The Fairies of the Caldon-Low, 178; Summer Woods, 

175. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 241 

Hugo, Victor (1802-1885) 

Good-Night, 15. 
Hunt, James Henry Leigh (1784-1859) 

Abou Ben Adhem, 98. 
Ingelow, Jean (1830-1897) 

Seven times One, 78. 
Jackson, Helen Hunt (1831-1885) 

October's Bright Blue Weather, 93 ; September, 41. 
Key, Francis Scott (1779-1843) 

The Star-Spangled Banner, 145. 
KiNGSLEY, Charles (1819-1875) 

A Farewell, 64 ; The Lost Doll, 87. 
Lane, M. A. L. (1862- ) 

Hilda's Christmas, 119. 
Larcom, Lucy (1826-1893) 

The Brown Thrush, 85 ; March, 68, 
Lear, Edward (1812-1888) 

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat, 166. 
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (1807-1882) 

The Arrow and the Song, 92 ; The Bell of Atri, 187 ; The 

Challenge of Thor, 55 ; The Children's Hour, 132 ; Day- 
break, 129 ; The Four Winds, 122 ; Hiawatha's Childhood, 

37 ; Hiawatha's Sailing, 88 ; Paul Revere's Ride, 182 ; Rain 

in Summer, 106 ; Snowflakes, 43 ; The Village Blacksmith, 

112 ; Winter and Spring, 159. 
Lowell, James Russell (1819-1891) 

A Christmas Carol, 191 ; The Fountain, 152 ; Stanzas on 

Freedom, 125. 
McDowell, Mary 

Civic Creed, 126. 
Miller, Emily Huntington (1833- ) 

The Bluebird, 71 ; Little May, 26. 
Miller, Hugh (1802-1856) 

TheBabie, 52. 
Moore, Clement C. (1779-1863) 

A Visit from St. Nicholas, 167. 
Moultrie, John (1799-1874) 

Violets, 83. 
MuLocK, Dinah Maria (Mrs. Craik) (1826-1887) 

A Christmas Carol, 61. 

W 



242 INDEX OF AUTHORS 

PouLssoN, Emilie (1853- ) 

The First Christmas, 4; "While Stars of Christmas Shine," 

18. 
Pratt, Anna M. 

A Hint, 19. 

Pyle, Katherine 

The Sea Princess, 36. 
Rossetti, Christina G. (1830-1894) 

A Chill, 20 ; The City Mouse and the Country Mouse, 54 ; 

An Emerald is as Green as Grass, 82 ; Lullaby, 12 ; Milking 

Time, 14; Sing-Song, 33 ; Summer, 30; The Wind, 2 ; Win- 
ter Rain, 100. 
Savage, Philip H. (1868-1899) 

Winter, 22. 
Schiller, Johann Christoph Friedrich (1759-1805) 

The Rainbow— A Riddle, 141. 
Scott, Sir Walter (1771-1832) 

Hie away, hie away, 72 ; The Lighthouse, 64 ; Young Lochin- 

var, 205 ; My Native Land, 127. 
Shakespeare, William (1564-1616) 

Ariel's Song, 10 ; Lullaby for Titania, 73 ; A Morning Song, 

50 ; Song of the Fairy, 49 ; The Greenwood Tree, 135. 
Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822) 

Daybreak, 151 ; Passage of the Apennines, 150 ; The 

Cloud, 105. 
Sheridan, Richard Brinsley (1751-1816) 

The Months, 19. 
Sherman, Frank Dempster (I860-) 

The Four Winds, 68 ; Pebbles, 138 ; The Snow-Bird, 6. 
Smith, Samuel Francis (1808-1895) 

America, 21. 
Southey, Caroline B. (1786-1854) 

Lady-Bird, Lady-Bird, 51. 
Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850-1894) 

Autumn Fires, 1 ; Bed in Summer, 28 ; The Sun's Travels, 

30; The Wind, 7 ; Winter-Time, 5. 
Tate, Nahum (1652-1715) 

While Shepherds watched their Flocks by Night, 96. 
Taylor, Jane (1783-1824) 

I love Little Pussy, 33 ; Thank you. Pretty Cow, 11. 



INDEX OF AUTHORS 243 

Tennyson, Alfred, Lord (1809-1892) 

The Brook, 136 ; Bugle Song, 141 ; The City Child, 27 ; The 
Eagle, 82 ; Flower in the Crannied Wall, 108 ; New Year's 
Eve, 121 ; The Snowdrop, 65 ; Sweet and Low, 24 ; Winter, 
45. 

Thaxter, Celia (1835-1894) 

Jack Frost, 42 ; Little Gustava, 173 ; March, 47 ; Nikolina, 
172; Piccola, 170; The Sandpiper, 94; Spring, 48; Wild 
Geese, 103. 

Thomas, Edith M. (1854- ) 
The Fir-Tree, 57. 

Thompson, Maurice (1844-1902) 
In the Haunts of Bass and Bream, 199. 

Unknown 

As Joseph was a-walking, 44 ; An Autumn Riddle, 12 ; The 
Caterpillar, 23 ; Cradle Song, 23 ; Cunning Bee, 36 ; The 
Dandelion, 35 ; Greek Children's Song, 128 ; King and 
Queen, 22 ; Little Things, 16 ; An Old Christmas Carol, 17 ; 
An Old English Carol, 17 ; An Old Gaelic Cradle-Song, 15 ; 
Sewing, 35 ; Song of the Fairies, 76 ; Things to Remember, 
33 ; True Love Requited, 203 ; Up in the Morning Early, 28; 
The Weather, 32; What Every One Knows, 32. 

Warner, L. G. 
Friends, 108. 

Whittier, John Greenleaf (1807-1892) 
Indian Summer, 110 ; In School-Days, 154. 

Wordsworth, William (1770-1850) 

Lines Written in March, 67 ; The Reverie of Poor Susan, 158; 
To a Child, 65. 



INDEX OF TITLES 



Abou Ben Adhem, 98. 

America, 21. 

American Flag, The, 147. 

An Emerald is as Green as Grass, 

82. 
Answer to a Child's Question, 70. 
April, 25. 

April and May, 131. 
Ariel's Song, 10. 
Arrow and the Song, The, 92. 
As Joseph was a-walking, 44. 
Autumn Fires, 1. 
Autumn Riddle, An, 12. 

Babie, The, 52. 

Ballad of the Tempest, 156. 

Battle-Hymn of the Republic, 148. 

Bed in Summer, 28. 

Before the Rain, 140. 

Bell of Atri, The, 187. 

Bluebird, The, 71. 

Boy's Song, A, 77. 

Brook, The, 136. 

Brown Thrush, The, 85. 

Bugle Song, 141. 

Casablanca, 207. 

Caterpillar, The, 23. 

Challenge of Thor, The, 55. 

Children's Hour, The, 132. 

Chill, A, 20. 

Christmas Carol (Herrick), 118. 

Christmas Carol, A (Lowell), 191. 

Christmas Carol, A (Mulock), 61. 

Christmas-Time, 62. 

City Child, The, 27. 

City Mouse and the Country 

Mouse, The, 54. 
Civic Creed, 126. 
Cloud, The, 105. 



Concord Hymn, 131. 
Cradle Song (Aldrich), 34. 
Cradle Song (Gilder), 54. 
Cradle Song (Unknown), 23. 
Cunning Bee, 36. 

Dandelion, The, 35. 
Dandelions, The, 86. 
Daybreak (Longfellow), 129. 
Daybreak (Shelley), 151. 
Diverting History of John Gilpin, 

The, 209. 
Don't Give Up, 107. 

Eagle, The, 82. 

Fable, A, 46. 

Fairies, The, 74. 

Fairies of the Caldon-Low, The, 

178. 
Farewell, A, 64. 
First Christmas, The, 4. 
Fir-Tree, The, 57. 
Flower in the Crannied Wall, 

108. 
Fountain, The, 152. 
Four Winds, The (Longfellow), 

122 
Four Winds, The (Sherman), 68. 
Freedom, Stanzas on, 125. 
Friends, 108. 

God bless our Native Land, 66. 
Good-Night, 15. 
Greek Children's Song, 128. 
Greenwood Tree, The, 135. 

Hiawatha's Childhood, 37. 
Hiawatha's Sailing, 88. 
I Hie away, hie away, 72. 



246 



INDEX OF TITLES 



Hilda's Christmas, 119. 
Hint, A, 19. 
Humility, 82. 

I love Little Pussy, 33. 

In School-Days, 154. 

In the Haunts of Bass and Bream, 

199. 
Indian Summer, 110. 

Jack Frost, 42. 

King and Queen, 22. 

Lady-Bird, 51. 

Lady Moon, 13. 

Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, 

145. 
Lighthouse, The, 64. 
Lines Written in March, 67. 
Little Gustava, 173. 
Little May, 26. 
Little Things, 16. 
Lost Doll, The, 87. 
Lullaby, 12. 
Lullaby for Titania, 73. 

March (Bryant), 102. 
March (Larcom), 68. 
March (Thaxter), 47. 
Milking Time, 14. 
Months, The, 19. 
Morning Song, A, 50. 
My Jean, 157. 
My Native Land, 127. 

New Year's Eve, 121. 
Nikolina, 172. 
No! 115. 

Norse Lullaby, A, 63. 
November, 115. 

O Little Town of Bethlehem, 192. 
October's Bright Blue Weather, 

93. 
Old Christmas Carol, An, 17. 
Old English Carol, An, 17. 
Old Gaelic Cradle-Song, An, 15. 
Old Ironsides, 149. 
Owl and the Pussy-Cat, The, 166. 



Passage of the Apennines, 150. 

Paul Revere's Ride, 182. 

Pebbles, 138. 

Piccola, 170. 

Pied Piper of Hamelin, The, 220. 

Pippa's Song, 9. 

Planting of the Apple-Tree, 196. 

Praying and Loving, 3. 

Rain in Summer, 106. 

Rainbow, The, 141. 

Reverie of Poor Susan, The, 

158. 
Robert of Lincoln, 193. 
Robin Redbreast, 110. 
Runaway Brook, The, 25. 

Saint Luke, Verses from, 60. 

Sandpiper, The, 94. 

Sea Princess, The, 36. 

Sea-Song, A, 151. 

September, 41. 

Seven times One, 78. 

Sewing, 35. 

Shepherd, The, 31. 

Sing-Song, 33. 

Snow-Bird, The, 6. 

Snowdrop, The, 65. 

Snowflakes, 43. 

Song of Solomon, Verses from 

the, 8. 
Song of the Fairy, 49. 
Song of the Fairies, 76. 
Spring, 48. 

Spring has come, 128. 
Star-Spangled Banner, The, 143. 
Succession of the Four Sweet 

Months, The, 84. 
Summer, 30. 
Summer Woods, 175. 
Sun's Travels, The, 30. 
Sweet and Low, 24. 

Thank you, Pretty Cow, 11. 
Thanksgiving-Day, 58. 
Things to Remember, 33. 
To a Child, 65. 
To Mother Fairie, 14. 
To Violets, 83. 



INDEX OF TITLES 



To-day, 81. 

Tree, The, 52. 

True Love Requited, 203. 

Twenty-third Psalm, The, 116. 

Up in the Morning Early, 28. 

Village Blacksmith, The, 112. 

Violets, 83. 

Visit from St. Nicholas, A, 167. 

Weather, The, 32. 
What Every One Knows, 32. 
While Shepherds watched their 
Flocks by Night, 96. 



247 
of Christmas 



« While Stars 

Shine," 18. 
Wild Geese, 103. 
Wind, The (Rossetti), 2. 
Wind, The (Stevenson), 7. 
Winter (Savage), 22. 
Winter (Tennyson), 45. 
Winter and Spring, 159. 
Winter Rain, 100. 
Winter Robin, The, 58. 
Winter-Time, 5. 
Wishing, 79. 
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod, 164. 

Young Lochinvar, 205. 



ElectrotyPed and printed by H. O. Houghton &* Co. 
Cambridge, Mass., U.S. A. 



FOR USE IN PRIMARY GRADES 



THE HIAWATHA PRIMER 



FLORENCE HOLBROOK 

Principal of Forestville School, Chicago 

The Hiawatha Primer is designed for use as the child's 
first book in reading. It is believed that this book will be 
welcomed by progressive teachers as marking a distinct 
advance in the methods and practice of teaching primary 
reading. 

The Hiawatha Primer contains 139 pages of reading 
text, 8 full-page colored illustrations, 4 full-page illustra- 
tions in black and white, and 65 part-page illustrations in 
black and white, or silhouette, by E. Boyd Smith. 

It is further equipped with reading and writing lessons 
in the latest vertical script, and many other special features. 

The Hiawatha Primer, School Edition^ is Extra Num- 
ber P in the Riverside Literature Series. Price, in cloth 
only, 40 cents, net^ postpaid. 

A TYPICAL COMMENDATION 

The Hiawatha Primer is at hand and has been carefully examined. 
It certainly fills a " long-felt want." The History and Literature 
work of the first and second years is based, in a large number of our 
best schools, on Hiawatha, but until your primer was placed on the 
market, no book that I know of presented a series of easy reading 
lessons on the poem. The binding, illustrations, and general me- 
chanical work leave nothing to b.e desired. The book is a distinct 
contribution to the field of child's literature. I shall recommend 
it to our primary teachers. — James A. Barr, Superintendent of 
Schools^ Stockton, Cal. 

Descriptive circulars will be sent upon application. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

4 Park St., Boston ; 85 Fifth Ave., New York 
378-388 Wabash Ave., Chicago 



FOR USE IN PRIMARY GRADES 



THE BOOK OF NATURE MYTHS 



FLORENCE HOLBROOK 

Principal of the Forestville School, Chicago, afid author of 
" The Hiawatha Primer.^ 

This is a second reading book especially designed to follow " The Hia- 
watha Primer." It contains 8 full-page and 22 part-page illustrations in 
black and white by E. Boyd Smith. The titles of the Myths are as fol- 
lows : — 



The Story of the First Humming- 

Bird. 
The Story of the First Butterflies. 
The Story of the First "Woodpecker. 
■Why the Woodpecker's Head is Red. 
"Why the Cat always falls upon her 

Feet. 
Why the Swallow's Tail is Forked. 
Why the White Hares have Black 

Ears. 
Why the Magpie's Nest is not well 

built. 
Why the Raven's Feathers are Black. 
How^ Fire was brought to the In- 
dians. 
How the Quail became a Snipe. 
"Why the Serpent sheds his Skin. 
Why the Dove is Timid. 
W^hy the Parrot repeats the 'Words 

of Men. 
The Story of the First Mocking- Bird. 
W^hy the Tail of the Fox has a White 

Tip. 
The Story of the First Frog. 
Why the Rabbit is Timid. 
Why the Peewit cries for Rain. 
W^hy the Bear has a Short Tail. 
Why the Wren flies Close to the 

Earth. 
W^hy the Hoof of the Deer is split. 
The Story of the First Grasshopper. 
The Story of the Oriole. 
Why the Peacock's Tail has a Hun- 



The Story of the Bees and the Flies. 

The Story of the First Mole. 

The Story of the First Ants. 

The Face of the Manito. 

The Story of the First Diamonds. 

The Story of the First Pearls. 

The Story of the First Emeralds. 

Why the Evergreen Trees never lose 
their Leaves. 

Why the Aspen Leaves tremble. 

How^ the Blossoms came to the Hea- 
ther. 

How Flax was given to Men. 

Why the Spruce has Green Berries. 

Why the Sea is Salt. 

The Story of the First Whitefish. 

Was it the First Turtle ? 

Why the Crocodile has a Wide 
Mouth. 

The Story of the Picture on the Vase. 

W^hy the Water in Rivers is never 
Still. 

How the Raven helped Men. 

The Story of the Earth and the Sky. 

How Summer came to the Earth. 

The First Snowdrop. 

W^hy the Face of the Moon is White. 

W^hy all Men love the Moon. 

W^hy there is a Hare in the Moon. 

The Children in the Moon. 

Why there is a Man in the Moon. 

The Twin Stars. 

The Lantern and the Fan. 



dred Eyes. 

The Book of Nature Myths, School Edition, is Extra Number V. in 
the Riverside Literature Series. Price, in cloth only, 45 cents, net, postpaid. 

Descriptive circulars will be sent upon application. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

4 Park St., Boston ; 85 Fifth Ave., Nevi' York 
378-388 Wabash Ave., Chicago 



Primary Reading Course 

FROM THE 

iSiter^toe literature ^erie^ 

BASED ON THE PRINCIPLE THAT 

••The end of learning to read is to read great books" 
GRADES I., II., and III. 

(Prices given below are net, postpaid.) 

The Riverside Primer and Reader. Extra No. K. 

Paper, 25 cents ; cloth, 30 cents. 

The Hiawatha Primer. Extra No. P. Cloth, 40 

cents. 

By Florence Holbrook, Principal of Forestville School, Chi- 

cago,Ill. Illustrated by E. Boyd Smith. 
The Book of Nature Myths. Extra No. V. Cloth, 

4C cents. By Florence Holbrook, Principal of Forestville 

School, Chicago, 111. Especially designed to follow The Hiawatha 

Primer. Illustrated by E. Boyd Smith. 

Scudder's Fables and Folk Stories. Nos. 47, 48. 

Each No., paper, 15 cents ; in one vol., cloth, 40 cents. 
Verse and Prose for Beginners in Reading. No. 

59. Paper, 15 cents ; cloth, 25 cents. 
Hans Andersen's Stories. Nos. 49^ 5o- Each No., 

paper, 15 cents ; in one vol., cloth, 40 cents. 
Grimms' Tales. Nos. 107, 108. Each No., paper, 

15 cents \ in one vol., cloth, 40 cents. 
Ruskin's King of the Golden River, etc. No. 126. 

paper, 15 cents; cloth, 25 cents. 
Scudder's Book of Legends. Told Over Again. 

No. 144. Paper, 15 cents ^ cloth, 25 cents. 
Longfellow's Hiawatha. Nos. 13, 14. Each No., 

paper, 15 cents ; in one vol., cloth, 40 cents. 

Revised Edition. With Illustrations by Frederic Remington. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

i Fark Street, Boston ; 85 FiftH Avenue, Kew York 
378-388 Wabaah Avenue, CWcago 



With Introductions, Notes, Historical Sketches, and Biographical 
Sketches. Each regular single number, paper, 15 cents, net, postpaid. 

1. Longfellow's Evangeline.*Jt 

2. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish; Blizabeth.* 

3. Longfellow's Courtship of Miles Standish. DramatieeDo 

4. Whittier's Snow-Bound, and Other Poems.* { J** 

5. "Whittier's Mabel Martin, and Other Poems.** 

6. Holmes's Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle, etc.* *■••■ 

7. 8, 9. Hawthorne's Grandfather's Chair: True Stories from 

New England History. 1620-1803. In three parts-tt 

10. Hawthorne's Biographical Stories. With Questions.* ** 

11. Longfellow's Children's Hour, and Other SelectionSo** 

12. Studies in Longfellow, "Whittier, Holmes, and LoweU. 

13. 14. Longfellow's Song of Hiawatha. In two parts. J 

15. Lowell's Under the Old Elm, and Other Poems.** 

16. Bayard Taylor's Lars : a Pastoral of Norway, etc.* 
17, 18. Hawthorne's ^Bonder-Book. In two parts. J 

19, 20. Benjamin Franklin's Autobiography. In two parts.J 

21. Benjamin Franklin's Poor Richard's Almanac, etc, 

22, 23. Hawthorne's Tanglewood Tales. In two parts.t 

24. Washington's Rules of Conduct, Letters, and Addresses.* 

25, 26. Longfellow's Golden Legend. In two parts. J 

27. Thoreau's Succession of Forest Trees, "Wild Apples, and 

Sounds. With a Biographical Sketch by R. W. EMEKSON.+t 

28. John Burroughs's Birds and Bees.** f J 

29. Hawthorne's Little Daflfydowndilly, and Other Stories.* ** 

30. Lowell's "Vision of Sir Launfal, and Other Poems.* JJ ** 

31. Holmes's My Hunt after the Captain, and Other Papers.** 

32. Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Speech, and Other Papers.** 

33. 34, 35. Longfellow's Tales of a "Wayside Inn. In three parts.JJ 

36. John Burroughs's Sharp Eyes, and Other Papers,** 

37. Charles Dudley Warner's A-Hunting of the Deer, etc.* If 

38. Longfellow's Building of the Ship, and Other Poems, 

39. Lowell's Books and Libraries, and Other Papers.** 

40. Hawthorne's Tales of the "White Hills, and Sketches.** 

41. Whittier's Tent on the Beach, and Associated Poems. 

42. Emerson's Fortune of the Republic, and Other Essays, in- 

cluding The American Scholar.** 

43. Ulysses among the Pheeacians. From W. C. Bryant's Trans- 

lation of Homer's Odyssey.* 

44. Edgeworth's Waste Not, "Want Not; and The Barring Out 

45. Macaulay's Lays of Ancient Rome.* 

46. Old Testament Stories in Scripture Language. 

47. 48. Fables and Folk Stories. In two parts.t 
49, 50. Hans Andersen's Stories. In two parts.t 

51, 52. "Washington Irving : Essays from the Sketch Book. [51.] 

Rip Van Winkle, and Other American Essays. [52.] The Voyage, and 

Other English Essays. In two parts.J 
53. Scott's Lady of the Lake. Edited by W. J. Rolfe- With 

copious Notes and numerous Illustrations. {Double Number, 30 cents. 

Also, in Rolfe'' s Students'' Series, cloth, to Teachers, 53 cents.) 
Also bound in linen: *25 cents. **29 and 10 in one vol., 40 cents; like- 
wise 28 and 36, 4 and 5, 6 and 31, 30 and 15, 39 and 123, 51 and 52, 49 and 50, 47 
and 48, 25 and 26, 22 and 23, 19 and 20, 17 and 18, 13 and 14, 113 and 42, 40 and 69, 
133 and 32, 11 and 63. t Also in one vol., 40 cents. Ul, 4, and 30 also in one 
vol., 50 cents; likewise, 7, 8, and 9; 28, 37, and 27 ; 33, 34, and 35. 

A descriptive circular, giving the Table of Contents of each number of the 
Series, including over 90 numbers issued since No. 53, will be sent to any address. 
Many new numbers are issued each year. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 



i^UV ; 1904 



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